A Toast to Death
by AFanOfWriting
Summary: Since the disappearance of Alex Mercer, the world has been rebuilding itself. The second outbreak begins where no one suspected, in the metropolitan of Los Angeles, CA. Relive the story of Annalisa Snow as she recounts the devastation of the most dangerous virus in the history of mankind. Disregards [Prototype 2]. Rated M for violence, blood and gore and suggestive themes.
1. Devil's Gift

Part I - Creator's Burden

Hello. My name is Annalisa Elizabeth Snow. My friends call me Anna. Hey, aren't you going to say "Hi, Anna" like all the other people? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm here to tell you a story, and I don't need your applause and the pathetic "Nice to meet you", or worse, your pity or fear. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You see, I live in a world of happiness, shame, grief, selfishness, just like yours. The only difference is, living with me in this world is a virus called Blacklight, created in some scientist's basement by pouring together glowing and steaming chemicals with the hope to make nuclear bombs. Yeah, that's a bit exaggerated. But, I may be wrong, and, no offense to the scientists out there, I don't really care. This virus changed the world, until every other person you meet on the streets may very well turn around and put a big hole in your head, or just plain out eat you. Yeah, I said "eat," because that's what happened. Just trust me.

I will tell you now, so you won't worry about it later: I have no reason to lie. Fuck, you're nobody to me. So everything I will say is, and I swear this upon my unholy and tainted soul, true, to a point. Everything I don't tell you, however, is something else. But hey, I'm not lying, am I? I hate liars, and hypocrites, which is why I suppose I will go far, farther than I should to avoid lying. So let's get back to the story, eh? You're probably bored already. Don't worry, I won't ramble … too much.

So Blacklight. There are two ways … no excuse me, three ways, three ways a person can react to Blacklight. First, it can act like any other disease, except it's cancer, HIV and the Black Plague all rolled up into one. Buy one get two free; it's quite a nice deal. In other words, you die pretty quickly, and pretty nastily, but it's still better than the alternatives. Second, it can eat away your brain and leave you a host to infect more people with Blacklight, as in you turn into a zombie, like the overly stereotyped kind, and run around and bite people and stuff. Yeah, that's pretty bad. Just wait until you hear the next one. Third, and the most bizarre, it can enrich your bloodstream, and turn you into superman. Or a smaller, biological hazard version of superman, anyway. So then people discovered they could jump a hundred feet into the air and run faster than a train and throw cars around, and then the military has to come in and "fuck shit up," as they like to say. But anyways, it really depends on your genes. If you're lucky, you die, and don't witness the apocalypse that follows. If you're not, you turn into a zombie, or worse, into me.

Now who am I, you ask? Can I jump a hundred feet into the air or run as fast as trains or throw cars around? Yes. Can I do anything else? Yes. Like what? Like shift my biomass around to create hardened blades that can drill through a tank more efficiently than a railgun. Anything else? Stop asking so many question! This FAQ is over. Let's talk about something else. Oh yeah, like the last alternative I forgot to mention earlier.

Besides being a mindless zombie and a bio-hazard superman, you can also roll a Blacklight monster in this extremely unfair game of dice life so generously tossed your ways. They are exactly what they sound like. If you want to picture what they look like, here is one example: imagine a clay doll. Now make it stand, upright, like a normal person, and on it sprinkle glitter (preferably red) to simulate the presence of Blacklight. Now make a fist, to symbolize evolution, and smash it flat. There, you get the extremely scaled-down model of what some of them look like. Gross right? Where do all the bones go? Well, I don't know. This biology stuff is confusing enough already. But I really hope you get the gist of it. These beasts aren't all that human-looking anymore. Sometimes they can grow so large you have to wonder where all that biomass comes from. Well, again, beats me. All I know is I get my biomass from them. Where they get it, I couldn't care less. For example, one time I killed a giant about fifty feet tall. The only difference between that giant and whatever other giant you can think of was that that particular giant looked like it was inside-out, as in its ribcage was outside and its skin was muscle. Weird stuff, huh?

Off topic. We can talk about my adventures later, right? 'Cause after all, isn't that why we're here? So guess what happened after I turned? Well, here's my story, of the Maker's return, and the deadliest foe mankind has ever encountered:

ooo

So I was nineteen (or was I eighteen?) and about to start college, and still living in my parents' house. (Don't mock me! They said it was fine as long as I don't living with them until I'm like forty or something.) It was quite a quiet day, one of those where you get slowly dragged down into the couch, and then suddenly you find you cannot get out of the couch, and then are very content to slouch so badly even gymnasts jealous. And then the TV flared to live, and I was happily lazy.

The station was a news channel, with one very indistinguishable reporter monotonously rambling on to the ever-rising crime rates in the city. Los Angeles was a big city back then, bigger than it is now, and prettier, and in this big city roaches like all those unseen but assumed burglars, muggers, thieves, murders, rapists roamed for easy prey. They all walked freely on the streets, because no one knew from one person to the next unless they found themselves behind bars with a prison uniform. But hey, it may be dirty and cheap and all that lethal, it was still home. Every day since I finished high school I wondered if I ever wanted to come back to L.A. after my degrees, or should I switch this metropolitan for a smaller and more peaceful countryside. Well, guess what? It doesn't matter now.

"Reports are coming in of affirmation of sightings of the country's number one biological terrorist, Alex Mercer."

Since when weren't reports coming in? It wasn't like there was a false glimpse of this so called Alex Mercer on camera every other day? Or even just an anonymous police report, only for the police to find the caller was just another kid playing with fire? They would arrest him, and then rush to the next call with the same urgency though they were well aware in their hearts that it simply may be another prank. Of course, news channels loved these scam calls. It gave them viewings when people still shudder at the name Manhattan Outbreak. It was beyond pathetic that people continuously fell for it. Every. Single. Damned. Time.

"Police investigations are reporting negative. 'It may very well be a prank call, but we can't let the chance of him returning slip through our fingers,' says the police commissioner, who was an eye-witness to the events on Manhattan island months ago."

There it was: the Manhattan incident, or outbreak, or whatever they called it. It was mentioned in every supposed story in relation to this Alex Mercer, just to keep people on their feet. Sometimes a picture of the rebuilding New York City might even be shown, if only to remind us of the devastation of a biological weapon. But why should we care about another terrorist? There were probably more than enough just living in this city at the moment! So what if there's one more across the country? The military people are good enough to deal with it. In fact, they dealt so well with it they had to disband one of their assets on the charge of an attempt to nuke the city.

The station changed. Another report replaced this one, and droned on, almost in complete sync with the previous. The world became a little fuzzy around the edges, and the couch was becoming too comfortable.

"–of Alex Mercer in Los Angeles. The virus has spread beyond Downey county. Officials are urging all civilians to either barricade doors and windows or quickly leave the city if possible." I peeked open an eye. On screen was a map of the L.A. downtown and surrounding areas. A stain of red tainted the otherwise clean city. The announcer looked like she was about to start hyperventilating. "Evacuation is highly recommended. The army has already arrived to quarantine infected area." Red arrows extended from the blob in the city. One to us. I sat up.

"Mom! Dad!" Of course they weren't home. It was a nightmare come true, one in which monsters lurked just beyond the curtain of sight, and the parents were always mysteriously gone. Except that it was real life, and that apocalypse was literally a mile away. I leaped from the couch and hurried on running shoes. The TV was never turned off and forgotten as the reporter continued on. I suppose it was later when the TV tower lost signal or the solar electrical plant nearby lost power did it finally turn off. I often wondered, though it was an unhealthy train of thought.

The door had opened to reveal the usual neighborhood street, though something was strange about it. No children played outside this time, nor were the birds calling. The mailman had failed to throw a bundle of newspaper so carelessly by our front steps and the older couple living above us was no longer complaining so loudly. The world was too quiet. All the liveliness of the block was gone. The only remainder of a once-living city was a poor plastic bag, floating along with the wind, departing from sight too soon. I ran.

From the map showing on TV only moments before, the worst of the plague was in the north, so I went south instead. No one was outside as I passed, nor had I anywhere to go. Friends who lived nearby did not answer as I banged furiously on their doors, nor of an uncle who lived I remembered somewhere near the park. Far behind me was a siren, which grew only quieter, and then shut itself out abruptly. I had no time to worry about it. A fire sent up great fumes of clouds, the monstrous beast of black shadows shadowing over the infected city. It would within the hour that that part of the city burned itself to nothing.

Looking back, I suppose it was better to run away than to stay home. Through the smoke military jets raced to unload the crates of incendiary bombs in an attempt to burn out the infected biomass. How laughable would they seem if all knew half the planes they sent in did not return.

Something crashed heavily into the ground behind me. Moving quickly, I was in an alley now. A green and large garbage can hopefully hid me, though from the way the ground-shaking steps trod closer, there wasn't much to look forward to. I am not ashamed to say that I prayed, to God, to whichever Hindu God that governed death, to Hades, to the Devil (if I died, it didn't matter). And then, the miracle happened. I was safe. The loud breathing disappeared, the grounding teeth quieted, and heavy presence lifted. Only seconds later was when the second miracle happened.

It would be in that exact time that fate decided one gift wasn't enough, and sent a second one. And this one I did not pray for, nor ask for, nor happily received, nor calmly received. The man was tall, and big, built like a SEC football champion. He wore a classic military uniform, and a mask to hide his face, though I knew he was no military, not from the way the asphalt cracked under his landing, not from the way his hands twitched until they blurred. He took a step forward, and I took a step back.

"Please, no." Even now my past was so pathetic it burns me to speak of it. Hindsight is such a useful thing, is it not? Perhaps if I had stood up bravely to the evolved, it might have been a little less violent, and messy, at least on his part. Instead, he tackled me as I tried to run. It sounds simple, just a tackle to the ground. Police do it all the time. But no. This guy had the body temperature of a hot furnace and the weight of a health, adult gorilla. It was sufficient to say he both crushed me and gave me a bad burn.

What came next was always the most confusing part. To today it puzzles me why he did not simply kill me. It may have been a lot of reasons, but I learned to appreciate the fact that he didn't. If the story simply ended here, wouldn't that be disappointing? So no death, instead a total body invasion of a liquid fire which loved itself to swim freely in my veins. The ground blacked out, as did the man, along with him the burning smell of the fiery city and loud drums of the distant warfare. Little tentacles of a swallowing inferno laughed in delight to find a new playground for themselves and the deathly blaze slowly devoured my essence. By sometime now I think the evolved had left, but as I was laying on the ground dying of myself, I could not tell. I might have been screaming, or thrashing. And then the fire found something. It roared, and the world was gone in ashes.

**A/N**

Hello, all! I hope you've enjoyed this little preview of the upcoming story (written by me). Over the next couple of months I will be working furiously on this project, but along the way I will be taking breaks for other stuff. The plot has already been written, along with a short synopsis of Chapters 2 & 3. All important characters have been developed, along with their roles in the story, their personalities and individual distinctions. 3 additional classes of infected monsters have been added to those of [Prototype 2], the plot of which was thrown out due to that fact that I thought it was stupid. So here's the Second Outbreak, and the only difference is, this one is nation-wide.


	2. Déjà Vu

Subject details:

Name: Alexander J. Mercer

Gender: M

Height: Unknown

Status: At large

Living Relatives: Dana A. Mercer (sister)

Affiliations: Unknown

Threat level: SEVERE.

General description: When unalarmed the subject will portray a normal male, usually seen in a leather jacket, hoodie and jeans. If startled and/or threatened, subject exhibits superhuman traits and can form weapons through biological means. Subject is known to disguise itself through the consumption of military personnel or civilians.

Last seen: Los Angeles, California

ooo

Dreams aren't such unusual things. For someone who sleeps regularly and healthily, there should be at least one dream or two a night, even if their significance and details are forgotten the very next day. Oh no what was different about this dream was first, infected don't dream, and second, it wasn't a hallucination of my mind in distress or whichever of the conflicted emotions I was feeling. I had seen, along with the eyes of many, many others, of the calling to order.

The cell was reflective glass on one side, and then solid and dense concrete everywhere else, with metal plates just for the added effects, if only visually, of a maximum security prison. A single fluorescent light was attached to the ceil, its cleanness belonging in a hospital. The light easily illuminated the small, ten by five yards room. A bed was placed in the corner, though from its untouched smoothness the current occupant had no use for it.

The woman sat cross-legged on the ground. Her short, spiked hair was ruffled and uneven, like a bird's feathers should it fall from the sky. Her clothes were too casual, a mini-jacket over a easy shirt and jeans, as though she was a civilian from the streets for a quick visit. Her eyes denied all possibility of that, as they burned an unnatural orange deep under the blue. Her lips were drawn in a faint smile, almost like she was so happy to see the shifting wardens on the other side of the glass, even if they knew in their hearts she could not see them.

She cocked her head to the side, as though listening to a world where only she knew. Her smile widened.

The hoarse voice guttered. "He has returned." Heads were left scratching and brows furrowed in response to the cryptic words. Then, suddenly, she stood up, and with a seemingly impossible move in the form a flick of her hand upwards, the light above her shattered.

"What the–?"

"Hey! Somebody get security in here!"

"Hit the alarm!"

The one-way mirror now had the opposite effect. From the outside the cell was in total darkness, save for the occasional shadow which darted from wall to wall. Each shower of sparks announced a shattered security camera or recording device, until finally, there was darkness once again. A small legion of armed men rushed through, past a shivering group of lab coats and took up positions around the empty observatory room. Guns cocked to fire.

"Gas, comin' through!"

A big man, clad head to toe in a ridiculous WWII-era gas mask, shoved his way through a pair of armed soldiers. Strapped to his back was a large canister, which was attached to a barrel in his hand through a tube. He looked awfully silly.

"Let's get ready, boys. If this bitch escapes the whole city's done for!" Frightened eyes darted. A few nodded here and there. Red lasers dotted the glass. Tick, tock. A tense moment passed. When only nothing happened, a man dared to chuckle nervously into the silence. "Well, this ain't–"

_Crack!_ Something flew out of the darkness and hit the glass with so much force it now featured a spider web of broken shards. The man who laughed almost dropped his gun at the new development. "Hold positions!" an authority cried. No one moved.

_Crack! _The web expanded greatly. A metallic-like spike, attach through a long chain of ragged and uneven appendage, prodded from the center of a second web. It cut deep enough to sear through half of the six-inch bullet-proof glass. Then the spike was gone, dragged lazily back into the dark. The team shifted in disquiet.

_Smash! _A blur of red and grey burst through the window. The man with the gas gun was the first to go, a hole where his face used to be, burned cleanly through his helmet and mask. As his lifeless body tumbled down to the ground, it was only picked up again by a nest of swirling red, which devoured him in half a second. In the mean time, three more soldiers had died and were sharing the same fate. Gunfire lit up the room. A high-pitched alarm rang somewhere deep inside the compound.

"Fire!"

Body parts flew, though none escaped more than ten feet as lightning arms darted from within the ball of death and drag them back in. Despite the heavy mutilation, very few blood was actually being spilled. Most simply disappeared. Someone fired a grenade launcher, the flight time of which allowed the blurred figure to duck under the explosive and cut the man cleanly in half. His upper and lower bodies were sucked in like a giant vacuum cleaner.

"Retreat and regroup at Sector A2!"

More people ran about, and more people died. It was no longer a fighter, rather a massacre. Through the wall of blood and flailing tentacles, two eyes of blood red stared out from a pretty face so pale it belonged to a vampire. Bullets ripped into the distorted body and out the other side.

"Heads up!" Another grenade blast, and another miss. "Shit! This thing is too fast!"

"Cover fire."

"Subject heading towards Hanger B! Requesting aid for takedown."

More yelling and more sparks of automatic fire. A chunk of concrete flew at the soldiers at terminal velocity. Many ducked. When they rose again, the creature was already gone, leaving in its wake poor stains of red. It had vanished into thin air. "A cheap magic trick," proclaimed the present officer, who had emerged from hiding behind a desk.

The out of the five surviving soldiers who had direct visual on the target, four were diagnosed with infection of Blacklight within six hours, while one showed extreme head injuries, delirious and unable to answer questions regarding to the subject. Though perhaps the doctors present were oblivious, through the sight of the Hivemind link, the last soldiers smiled in such happiness when there was no one looking that one might think he had found heaven.

ooo

Through a fog I swam, and together with me hundreds and thousands of others. Sometimes, those close to me disappeared into the fog, and then were replaced by others. Minds together clinked like fancy wineglasses only to be lost and found anew again. In the blindness we were free, and in the light was our prison. When it was my turn, I did not resist, instead let the fog carry me far, far away.

The sun peeped too strong into my eyes. I sat up.

In the bare room there were only grey walls for the scenery. Scorch marks dotted the emptiness, painting a horrid expression of figurative warfare, within which there was only the giant of smoke, its blackened mass casting a shadow of doom over the demolished city. A tiny window once provided a passage outside from this confined sanctuary, but now an entire side of the wall was gone, leaving a wide and clear view at the decimated fires below. From a hundred feet up, the faraway great fires were visible in the distant skyline. Helicopters the size of birds chattered around. One leg of the bed dangled dangerously outside of the safe flooring, leaking a series of ominous creaks. I quickly scrambled back, wildly. The chasm was too close for comfort.

"Took you long enough to wake," a voice by my side said, dully. I jumped again in surprise. The bed only creaked further. "I was almost thinking the military might level this part of the city before you got to your senses." The man wore a loose jacket with black pants and combat boots. I would have applauded his style if not the situation. He strode to the missing floors without the least of worries. "Well, come on now. We can't stay forever. If the military finds us, they might make this hell look like sweet heaven."

"Where are we going?" The shock might have made my logical senses decide they needed a break from this freaky life. As I stood up, I felt a bit too light, the world was too bright and time too slow. My limbs were too stiff and weak. The ground bobbed up and down.

"Quickly," he urged, with a worried glance to the skies. I wonder what he saw there that made his face so pale. In fact, he had never told me.

I tried in the least to delay him just a bit. "You haven't told me your name," I managed. My voice sounded terrible.

He looked amused. "Ethan Purcell, here at your service, ma'am." He bowed, so low he might have touched his toes if he reached down. My cheeks might have burned, and the lights might have danced in his eyes. Then he cleared his throat, and pointed down to the streets. At my confused look, he cleared his throat again. "Let's go."

"Down there?!"

"Yes."

I frowned. He gave me an exasperated look. "Fine. If you don't want to jump, I'll carry you." And that is the story of my first experience of a bridal carry. It would have felt embarrassing, if we weren't falling to our deaths. But for _*cough_ _*cough_ integrity purposes I will not go into the details of exactly how I learned to run as fast as a racehorse, or how I closed my eyes when Ethan insisted he needed to push me from the tallest building he could find to overcome my fear of heights. Who knew acrophobia was such an issue when you're infected? Absurd!

ooo

We headed farther South.

The infected zone was already slipped past layers and layers of military quarantine. In a good five hours somehow the virus had mysteriously leaped the fence twice. But even as the baffled military leaders scratched their heads, they didn't fail to deliver truckloads of men and crates of aerial bombs.

The soldiers frightened me the most.

Even late into my teens, the sight of black hoods and blue visors on the brutes of soldiers in Blackwatch uniform gave me creeps. Sometimes I wondered if they were even a legal organization, though since their separation, no more news were heard of again. At times they were shown as peacekeepers on the TVs, shooting down the misshapen creatures as they waved the civilians to safety. Other times, more anonymous sources told of different stories, of their brutality and stringency. This was only months ago, somewhere in the hell we call Manhattan.

And these looked just like them, except for they weren't the size of champ wrestlers and they didn't wear the Blackwatch logo, an image forever imprinted within my childhood frights.

They carried with them armaments of war. Machine guns mowed down moving targets through bushes, walls, fleshly deformities. Grenade launchers packed high explosives into tight crowds; body parts flew. When bigger things came knocking, tanks easily bombed them away with high caliber cannons while the helicopters launched sizzling fireworks in aerial support. Bomber jets dropped like vulture onto painted targets; blocks disappearing in seconds. It would be quite a show to watch, and then a tank turned its gun at me.

At a height of six floors, the ballistic shot like a rocket at me. Wait, no it was a rocket. The shell ate away a chunk of the building and threw me, hard enough to crack walls, against the far door, which I promptly crashed through, splintering the wood to needle points that harmlessly bounced against me. Ethan was beside me only seconds earlier, and then proceeded to climb out of a caved in part of the wall, both fuming and worried.

"We have to go," was all he said.

He didn't wait for me as he sprinted the other way when the second shelling was heard from below. I had only escaped to the next hall when it hit, obliterating the rest of the room. The military seemed satisfied we died, as they fired no more rounds. That was, until we leaped out of two windows on the other side of the building, the shattered glass raining upon the streets below. I landed heavily on an infected, crushing it beneath me.

"Targets three o'clock!"

A wave of bullets slammed hard into the ground around me. I ignored them in favor of keeping pace with Ethan as he leaped over the heads of a second tank convoy. I did so too, except I landed on the roof of one if only to rattle its inhabitants.

"Two evolved located in sector twelve. Requesting air strike. Targets heading east." _Evolved?_

In my short, cursed life, the exhilaration of running is perhaps one of the greatest joys I have ever experienced. Imagine if you can run faster than helicopters, or leap so far the world blurs. It is one of the small moments where I truly feel like a god in my own might. Imagine the invincible grace with which you can dodge the standing cars, or the evasive rolls you need to escape explosions left and right. When distance becomes only a number, and time just another object, life is your playground, and you become truly invulnerable.

_Boom!_

That had been a little too close. Homing rockets were annoying as a swarm of pesky mosquitoes on a summer night, insufferable crowd. They beeped the most irritating sound as they locked on, losable only by turning abruptly, also losing precious time in the process.

"Approaching large in sector eleven! Immediately support necessary! Heavy firepower–" _Approaching large?_

Suddenly all but two helicopters disappeared from our trails. The rest were so insistent, prodding after us with bullets and warheads which threw up lights so bright they could outshine the setting sun.

"Jump!"

Ethan's command came too quickly that I did not think as I jumped, one, two, three, four stories into the air. A homer crashed into the spot where I was only moments ago. My eyes widened as I fell straight for him, and his arms waiting to catch me.

"What do you think–!"

Then he threw me.

I was laughably ungraceful as I sailed into the air. It was such a high I thought perhaps I had finally escaped the bounds of humanity. Running as quickly as a racecar, yes. Flying, why not? The pilot had such a scramble of panic as I crashed awkwardly through the wind shield, shattering it and smudging a dark stain against the pilot seat, which was sent somewhere into the back of the helicopter. Beneath me were smashed controls and panels. I started to lose altitude.

Uh oh.

I cried out as I leaped from the cockpit, leaving the failing wreckage behind. In midair somehow I had learned to straighten myself to avoid being upside-down. In front of me Ethan leaped from the other aircraft, though with much more control. Whereas I rolled when hitting the ground, he made a small crater and stood calmly, as though it was a daily exercise.

"Not hurt?" I shook my head. "Good, because we really need to get out of here. Thankfully whatever monster they found in sector 11 is keeping them busy." A distant roar was heard, and then more explosions. He cast a glance in that direction. "Come on, then. We haven't got all day."

ooo

"–spotted in infected zones." A grainy image showing humans, or rather humanoid creatures. Their arms ended in strange, bulging appendages. Three stood on top of a burning building, while a fourth one was already falling down, onto a squad of ducking soldiers. They reminded me of something, something close. "Military reinforcements have already been transported from San Francisco." Flashes of an interview of a commanding officer, whose large mustache bristled in anger.

We kept to ourselves as we strode like every other person along the grey asphalt, which led onto itself endlessly forward like fate, on its banks the refugees huddled around small fires for warmth and comfort while a few others braved its adventures. A group was crowded around a live TV, playing a station on the newest reports of the outbreak.

"In other news, infection has broken out in Houston, Texas, following the escape of a dangerous prisoner, whose name the government has not yet released. Infection levels in New York City has grown in response to the conflict between the military and the Followers of Evolution. Quarantine has been set up in Houston and New York." The reporter looked stunningly calm as she droned on, aware that it was her defining moment in her career. Then I saw something in her face. No one else noticed, so I pretended I didn't, either. But there was a slightest of pride in her voice when she said "Followers of Evolution." Her eyes lit with strange light, which faded away too quickly. These Followers sounded like a cult. How strange. I turned away.

"So what happens now?" I founded myself asking, eyes drifting over the countless pitiful and lost. A small child looked back at me with curiosity, while a muscular man stared dejectedly into the ground.

"Now we survive, and lie low. They will know we escaped, but hopefully there are others to distract them for the time being." I swore he looked wistful for a second. Maybe it was a trick of the moonlight. "Then we need to get out of the city. There's something in New York last I heard that will grant shelter to the likes of us."

I only nodded as each step carried us farther into the darkness. It was then I would have wished the rest of this hell away for a life of quietness and peace. Sometimes all those drums and yells, and only later you find you forgot what it was to feel safe again.

**A/N**

Well, here's chapter two. I would really appreciate any reviews, whether be appraisals or criticisms. Actually, especially criticisms so then I can improve my story more to the tastes of my lovely readers.

Chapter 3 is 25% complete. Be ready for more adventure soon!


	3. Sanctuary of Beasts

"–captured an anonymous video. Three days since the beginning of the outbreak, we finally receive word from the infamous terrorist: Alex Mercer." The reporter's pretty face flashed away to darkness on the screen. It was soon replaced by another face, this one hooded and shady. The camera bobbed up and down a few times as it was adjusted. Finally, the hooded man sat back in his chair. He nodded in seeming satisfaction.

"Hello. My name is Alex Mercer. You've probably have already heard of me: the Monster of Manhattan, Blacklight, the number one biological terrorist. So I don't think I need to introduce myself.

"Now you must wonder about this video. After all, I didn't publicly announce myself the first time, nor did I give demands to the government. The past is in the past. We shan't worry about that." He leaned back until the upper side of his face was hidden in shadows. "But you see, times have changed. I am not the same foolish man who accidentally first released the virus in New York, and this is nothing short of an intentional biological attack on the entire country." When he smiled, his teeth were too sharp. "When my work is finished, you will all burn.

"Why, you ask? My answer is this:" he leaned forwarded again, yet his face remained shrouded. "This world is corrupt to its core, and humanity is the reason." He snarled as he spoke. "Humanity is the reason why humanity itself is in fear. Humanity is the reason why I," he nearly yelled, "why I exist! I will cleanse the weak from the face of this planet! I will evolve you all beyond your dreams! There shall not be any of this old world left! And then," he calmed, "and then there shall be peace." His smile was nothing short of sinister. As the last of the color faded in the recording, his eyes glowed, like charcoals in a dead hearth, and then was gone.

The reporter was back. "Police are still investigating the origin of the video, but it has been confirmed by the government the man was truly the real Alex Mercer. Citizens are advised to immediate contact the nearest authority if this man is spotted. Take no risks! The military has released that this is man is very dangerous."

ooo

"Come. I've found the perfect place for us to stay."

"Would it be by any chance a five star hotel?"

"Well, no. But no one will find us there."

Living on the streets is not have as bad it was all cracked up to be, especially when you don't need to eat, or when half the city is with you on the streets. We had wondered along the refugee area, patrolled constantly by armed soldiers should a fight break out. There had not been much to see despite such a large city. In fact, it was awfully dull, an emotion I would never have thought to associate with the apocalypse.

"We should do something," I had complained, on the second day we escaped from the infected zone. Ethan had given me a skeptical glance.

"Like what?" He was amused, which only made me more determined to alleviate this boredom.

"Well, I don't know…" The thought of it was only so perplexing, yet with a disappointed realization that I knew there was nothing.

"How about this," he proposed, surprising me, "let's talk."

"About what?"

"About ourselves. Because first of all, I know next to nothing about you, other than you preferred to be called Anna. Plus, you probably know nothing about me either. So if we are going to be stuck together, we might as well know something about each other."

"Uh, ok."

I felt very self conscious, especially when he said "You first."

"I, uh, um." I stopped, then at his encouraging look, began anew. "I'm a, uh, a student from the local area. I've lived here all my life, went to a normal high school, was planning to go to college soon. When the virus hit, I ran, and then I found you." When he cocked an eyebrow, I was beyond exasperated. "What?!"

"A name, please?"

"My name is Annalisa…" I felt rather uncomfortable.

"Annalisa…?"

"Snow. My name is Annalisa Snow."

I had waited for him to say something more interesting, like "Nice to meet you, Anna." But instead, he gave a stupid "huh," to which I almost felt offended, and proceeded to introduce himself. He was only home for a summer, and had plans to go back to school soon, but he was kidnapped, quite inconveniently, and "some people did some stuff" to him, in his exact words. I raised an eyebrow, but he only protested I had hardly given all my life's details. And that was the story of how I met Ethan M. Purcell. Honestly, I think it should be more dramatic, right?

Anyways, we had been inspecting an abandoned house somewhere in the middle of nowhere. In the ceiling was a lousy patch of plank which looked as sturdy as an eighty-year-old grandma on chicken legs and on the walls were holes to see into the moldy framework. The floors creaked loudly with every step, and one particular part near the door completely crumbled down when Ethan stepped on it. It was a new home, if only temporarily.

"Not bad," I commented. It could be worse. "But wouldn't the neighbors notice?" My first impression of them was miserable. They were loud people, and rather cynical, too, from the evil looks they gave us. "I mean it's not like we are as suspicious as we could possibly be, but wouldn't someone sooner or later get ideas and call cops?"

"Cops?" he snorted. "There's no cops in an apocalypse. Haven't you seen all those zombie movies? There are no cops." He glanced around, carefully scrutinizing every little detail. "And besides, we need somewhere to be. Right now, we have nothing. And you," he looked me over; I felt the urge to hide, "and you need food. You look too weak. In fact, I'd say our biggest worry is someone thinking I'm underfeeding you."

I ignored his remark. "Food?"

"Food." Something about the word was simply ominous.

"What food? What food do..." I gestured wildly to us, "us eat?"

His face fell. "Ah, well, you see, um, well, this is probably the part you won't like. But uh," he scratched his head, "let's just say I hope you aren't a vegetarian or a humanist." He gave a rather sheepish smile, which I frowned at. "Yeah. Let's leave it at that for now."

I shrugged. "I will find out soon enough anyways."

"Yeah." I wished I could have never.

ooo

Consumption is the second hilarity of infection to running at the speed of sound, and the most pleasurable. When people such as I take within myself the biomass of another, we not only assume their mass, but also their physical makeup, which includes their appearance, and their present thoughts and notable memories. What I mean by the latter is, for example, if I was to consume a man who had recently tortured a helpless prisoner, I might retain his sharp memories of the prisoner's painful screams and the terribleness he felt during the torture, or crazed joy, depending on the man, but I will not know what he had for lunch a week ago, because either that is not important, or the man himself has forgotten. However, oddly, not all unimportant reminiscences are forfeited. At one point I noted a man had once cursed out at a cashier at his frequented coffee shop, and received a free boot to his rear and a permanent ban. It might not be influential in his life, but he has certainly memorized that detail so much so that I will see it too.

It would be in the wee hours of the morning when I received my first gruesome look at the more shady side in the life of an infected. When the patrol inspectors knocked on our door, I opened it to see masked military men, one of whom held a strange device at me, very much like the speedometer traffic cops use as an excuse to pull people over. It beeped, and they stared strangely at me.

"Ma'am, we need to inspect this house for possible signs of infection," said one of them, deadpanned.

I stared back. "This is–" Just then the device beeped louder. The three looked at one another, and then one raised a weapon to me.

"Ma'am, please put your hands on your head!" The strangeness of his distorted voice from the mask was terrifying. One forced his way through the suddenly too narrow door frame. I took a step back, an arm to inadvertently shield myself.

"Hey! You can't–"

"Mark, Sam, search the rest of the house for signs of virus!" Two waddled away, one to upstairs, one to the kitchen. The remaining had now grabbed onto my arm, and the rifle still in his hand. "Let's go, you." He tried to tug.

Instead, what he found was I didn't move, but rather he jerked back a step as I danced back. "What–?" And then, on instinct of a pure gut feeling, I pulled him into me.

It was such a wondrous feeling, the assimilation. First there was such an unpleasant sight as a masked face lapsed into mine, then was a feeling of sickness and wrongness as I lost vision when my frontal features split apart. A warm mass was pressed against me, and then suddenly I was full, so full it was as though I ate an entire buffet, yet somehow I wanted more, and so much more. After that was when the waves of sights, sounds, smell, feelings and thoughts came to me. Like a raging river against a floodgate of dust it crashed into my mind, all the memories, heavy with the burden of pain and honor, rushed to me. In mere seconds I had lived another life.

"Bob, you ok?" Sam yelled from upstairs.

I was kneeling heavily on the ground, not replying.

"Bob?" Footsteps came closer, until at the bottom of the stairs the man named Sam cocked his rifle. Too late for him anyways, as I rushed towards him with all the speed of a Sergeant Robert Smith. He attempted to dive away, but was ultimately caught by the foot, my hand's sudden and terrible strength crushing his ankle.

He screamed. It did him no good. By his spasm I pulled him in, and in his screams I devoured his flesh until there was only a content fullness. He was alien like the first, though his memories was not a deadly charge, rather a more moderate thump. Faces flashed into the darkness, and then they settled to the bottom. Now I imagine a well, a well so deep and dark that nothing escapes. Only I have the right to dwell within its depth and review all that I have taken.

Only one left. His name was Mark. From the ruckus outside it was a wonder he didn't come to investigate, until I stepped into the dining room to see a disgruntled Ethan devour a humanoid form in a swirl a red tentacles. It looked like a wrapped ball of spaghetti, sausages and tomato soup all mixed together into a misshapen distortion of a man. To say the least, it was revolting. My gag reflexes acted, though there was nothing to throw up.

"Easy there," I heard a voice say. It was uncomfortably loud, though it had shaken my out of my stupor of disgust.

"Looks … terrible," I managed to choke out.

"Yes," he said lamely, "it does." Then he just sighed, and, whilst shaking his head, walked away, tossing a, "We will need to move soon, lest the military wonders what happened to three of its men," over his shoulder.

I didn't complain.

ooo

And then, only an hour later, before we had even begun to make a move, the ground shook from an artificial earthquake.

Dust fell from the ceiling in a rain of powdery snow. A window shattered to allow a tiny visage on the eclipsed sun. Smoke still bellowed from the north, and it seemed to grow and grow with each passing second. It would only be too soon that the black monster devoured all the rest of the city.

"Let's go. Quickly." I found Ethan at the front door. He stared into the inferno beast, mesmerized, and then, as though slapped, blinked and shook his head.

"Go where?"

"Away from that." He nodded towards the burning city, and the flashes of explosions that were suddenly too close. A horrible roar erupted in that general direction.

"Yeah. Let's hurry."

We walked, and joining us were dozens of others, normal, uninfected civilians, all keeping an wary eye to the back. They buried their heads to the ground, as though afraid if looking up would summon the plague to them. At only a block away, a woman behind us screamed.

I turned to see a monstrous and hairless dog leap a solid fifty feet onto a businessman, who was instantly shredded into a splatter of blood and gore. The creature's teeth shone red in the overcast smoke. The cruel grin lasted only a second before it buried its head in the dead man's chest cavity. I felt sick again, though I managed to fight it down.

"Run!" someone yelled, though it certainly wasn't me, not as I jumped into the air and bashed down onto the creature. It barely looked up before a fist grounded it hard into the asphalt.

Roar! It said back to me. I ignored its howl and charged, visualizing a football player on sports TV, shoulder first, into its side. It fell back, jaws snapping and paws grabbing uselessly. I was too happy with my small victory. I attacked again.

Though this time it saw my intentions. Where I was to go, it was already there. A swipe threw me away. I rolled to lessen the impact, barely evading another swipe as the beast followed up.

"Hiya!" someone yelled, and then another form slammed into the creature. I would have admired Ethan's ferocity, had his arm not being funnily coated in an armor of silver and blackened red. It was sharp, as the monster fell away, bleeding from its heavily packed muscles. Its sharp teeth bared in anger, and its blood-red eyes locked onto Ethan. He was not fazed as it charged, instead cutting more holes into its skin, from which crimson pooled out.

Roar!

And then I did one of the most foolish things I have ever considered myself do: I climbed a tree, and from my advantage of height, jumped down onto the wounded creature, still circling around Ethan's inhuman appendages (they looked like hooks?) on his arms.

I was lucky it was not paying attention to me. The dive was successful, as I landed with enough force to hear a string of sharp cracked in its spine. Its back contorted unnaturally, and then I followed up by smashing its face into the ground. Instinct took over. I evaded the dying creature's wild grab and pounded a fist into its broken back. From where my hand made contact, a web of red erupted, its tentacles drilling into the hard flesh beneath the armored skin. Cold currents channeled from the defeated to the victor. The powerful energy coursing through me was better than any high, leaving me wishing for more. Within seconds there was only a hollow husk, its eye empty, its abdomen gone, and its light faded. I stared into the face of the hideous fiend, and saw nothing but another broken doll. So sad, so alone.

Someone grabbed my arm. "Come on, let's go. There's more of them coming." Only too true. More howls sounded close. The horrible roar was also nearer than before.

"Alright," I heard my distant voice, "let's go." Another earthquake rattled the world.

We ignored the terrified looks of the survivors who would have been dog food seconds sooner and continued our heading. The earth around us shifted in turmoil. A lamppost fell as the ground shook from massive stress. We hurried.

"Look out!"

More of them, almost like a pack of hunters, perched on the side of the buildings like monkeys, their deathly glare surveying the crowd beneath. Overhead a helicopter battled with what looked like a flock of glowing birds, except for bullets barely grazed their wings as they swooped in with deadly speed and power. Farther away a building collapsed to be devoured by the smoke giant.

Something came from the right and gave me one solid whack to the face. I staggered away while shielding myself from further assaults. It was rather ugly, though unlike all the other ugly things, this one was human sized. However, that didn't mean much, not when it screeched loudly into my face and attempted to bite me. How rude! I kicked it away, and much to my surprise, it actually flew away, and impacted against a brick wall with bone shattering force.

"What the…"

I stopped wondering when more of them poured out from who knows where. Ethan's hook latched them on for a wild ride before throwing them back to hit each other like bowling balls. When five of them died quickly, I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Care to tell me how you do that?"

"Maybe later."

Another building fell, though this one was closer. The resulting shockwave sent dust to my eyes.

"What was that?!"

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out."

Except for we did, because when we cleared the tall apartment area, we got a clear look at the behemoth. It was huge, so big it was no smaller than the buildings around it. On its tiny legs stood the body of exposed muscle and bone. One of its eyes was shut, an area in vicinity blackened to explosions and bullets. It was very, very ugly, even worse than the little zombies we had dispatched. Not only was it extremely unbalanced (one arm consisted of a gigantic shield of bone while the other one a thin hook), the sight of its muscles contracting was enough to coil my nonexistent stomach. It swiped at a helicopter, like bugs they were, and missed, instead caving out three floors of an apartment complex.

"Uh oh," he said.

"Uh oh is right," said I.

"Very right," said a voice to my left. I jumped.

A man, so ordinary he did not belong, stood wearing a simply jacket and jeans. He was too staring intently upon the juggernaut which dominated in the one-sided fight against a squad of buzzing missiles and long range artillery. A jet tried to make a bombing run, but was instead squished by a swing from the gigantic shield.

I opened and closed my mouth.

"You two don't belong here." The way the man said it was oddly ominous. Ethan shifted nervously.

"What makes you say that?"

The man snorted in amusement in response. Then he gave both of us a good stare down. "I see the virus in you," he said cryptically.

"What?"

"You two are infected, yet show no symptoms. So either you are completely immune, which is simply not possible, or…" he paused dramatically, "or you have evolved beyond the mindless beasts the virus creates." He almost proclaimed this proudly. "It's the second one, right?" He winked. "So what I recommend you do is follow me, to a safe place from the military." This word he said in spite.

Ethan hesitated. I could tell he didn't trust the man. Yet in a situation so desperate, I could also tell there was no choice. A lifeline was thrown to us; we'd be fools to not take it.

"Fine. We'll go with you. But don't expect us to stay for too long."

The man waved that part off. "Oh no, don't worry. If you hear what we have to say, then you wouldn't even think about leaving any time soon."

That sounded funny.

**A/N**

Well, how you are liking it so far? (That was a rhetoric question, but feel free to comment your feelings :D)

You should recognize the three infected monsters in the last scene. If not, they are goliath (big guy), flyer and brawler, and you should play [Prototype 2] just for the amazing action. I chose brawler because they simply look more vicious than hunters. New infected species will be introduced later (they're not in the games).

As for who was the man at the end? You can find out who he works for in the next chapter. (And it's not Blackwatch, cuz Blackwatch is disbanded, cuz there's really no way to excuse their actions. But for you Blackwatch enthusiasts out there, Blackwatch personnel and armory will be simply incorporated into the military. Same monster, different name.)

Also, one last word (and this isn't a spoiler for the next chapter), but this story will feature main character deaths and intensive bloody actions (yay!). Just a heads up for those who didn't bother to read the synopsis.

To **ZeroAcception**: thank you for your support! :D


	4. Just a Taste

"This world is filled with the greedy and the selfish, the dirty and the corrupt, the crook and the unclean. But it must not remain this way. Together, we shall make the world anew! We shall recreate humankind to be more powerful beyond your imagination! We shall liberate the you from your own darkness! But first, first we must start with the past. First we shall burn the old world to its ashes. And then, then we shall build a great monument to the future!"

- _Anonymous_

ooo

_Boom!_

The whole city shook as the beast of destruction raged through the buildings, knocking them whenever like towers of childish blocks. Shells bombed at it from dozens of different directions, their only affect to put blackened marks on its skin that healed within seconds. When it roared, all were on their knees to hear the mighty speak. Powerful blows blew apart military gates like paper, letting through mobs of other strange creatures. The city was falling apart.

"The giant has yet to slow down in its rampage across the city. Additional military assets have been called in to help with the situation." The screen flashed of a squad of high altitude planes. Bombs fell from their bellies like black raindrops. Then the reporter's face was back, a human welcome to the horrors of warfare. "In other news, the military has stopped the spread of the infection in central downtown, but much of the city lie in ruins. The northeastern sector of the city is rated safe from high risk infections."

And then the reporter went on to other matters, such as the standard precautionary warnings given by the government in this very special emergency and the rising infection levels in New York, Houston, Las Vegas, and honestly quite a lot of cities on both the east and the west coast. There was rumor that the virus had already spread beyond the border, though no one knew for certain.

Grunting, I clicked the TV shut.

In one of the most poor houses I have ever seen was the hideout for special people, like me. I did not fit in, however, as the biggest difference between me and these people was that they were here for a purpose. They claimed to work for a certain Order of Evolution organization, based somewhere in New York. Seeing how Ethan and I were like them, they took us in, and promised a safe trip to the City that Never Sleeps so we could meet the leaders of this group. But to be honest I thought they were a bunch of hooligans, following in the vain work to control the wild outbreak while on the constant run from the military. When asked, they refused to say why there was such hostilities between two factions working for the same goal.

I sighed, in both frustration and boredom, and walked to the sliver of a window that peeked out of this horrible basement.

Not only was I forced to be cooped up in a basement in fear of the day the soldiers came knocking, but I had to share it when a bunch of religious fools. From their talks I heard of an "archbishop" and a "creator." Both of them appeared to be influential figures in the society of the infected, and were indicated to be in a sort of high conflict.

"The creator has abandoned us, and now he just comes back with a complete wipeout of the human race?! This isn't how it works! I'll be damned if I ever saw him!" one had said.

"Yeah, but don't you think we should be at least respect the maker?" another had suggested, though rather weakly.

"He be a cursed bastard! We will pay no homage to a wild monster intent on destroying the world," the third one yelled. The resentment against the whatever creator was high. On the other hand, the archbishop was more liked.

"Blessed be his holiness. I only wish he found all of us sooner, or else we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Yeah. These Loyalists are getting bolder and bolder. Did you hear last week they freed the second god from a military facility in Houston? No small matter either. Infection rate hit 10% in a day and a half."

What a bunch of blind idiots.

My musings were cut short as a loud engine cranked to a stop near the front of the house. Uh-oh.

"We are leaving!" I yelled out in the general direction of the house. I was sure they heard me, as one of them hurried out with a piece of paper in his hand.

"You better," the man said as he took in the bare room of a basement. In his eyes I thought I saw something like horror. Then it was gone, and red filled the white spots. "And here," he stuffed in my hand the paper. His skin was burning hot, enough to bake a sixteen inch pizza to 425ᵒ without preheat. "Take this. We were originally going to smuggle you aboard one of those military transports they use to evacuate the injured, but now it looks like you'll have to find your own way there. This is the time and location of the departure. We look forward to your presence in New York." And with that he took off, towards the sudden yells and screams erupting from somewhere on the other side of the house. I looked at Ethan.

He shrugged. "We should probably listen to that guy. He looks like he knows what he is doing."

And we were hurrying, towards the front entrance.

The front door was a bad location to start our journey; because as soon as we poked our heads around a wall, a rain of bullets greeted us, followed by a "Grenade!" and a wild explosion which took out a chunk of the living room. We retreated back.

"Search the house! Leave no survivors!"

We had gone to the back of the house. Through the windows I saw more soldiers, lying quietly in the bushes, waiting for anyone foolish enough to escape through the back. When I pointed it out to Ethan, his face tightened. Another series of gunshots broke out in the front of house, followed by a terrible and inhuman screech.

We locked ourselves in a tight room and squished the door handle into a clump of dead metal. I stared at Ethan.

"Alright, alright, let me think." He rubbed his temples. The heavy footsteps, though however cautious, grew closer and closer with each passing second. I glanced worriedly towards the door and debated whether to put my ear against it. "Ok!" he suddenly exclaimed, making me jump, "here's what we need to do: we must make them think we're them." That bit confused me, which must have been evident on my face, for he exclaimed again: "it's a gift from the virus. It allows us to take on another's form!" He started pacing, agitated and excited. "Here, I'll show you!"

And then, with a spectacular magic trick, in front of my eyes his form blurred into a red mass. It writhed like coils of fleshly snakes, intertwining between each other in a big knot. When the red faded away, standing in his place was another man, different height, different skin, different eyes. I stared.

"If we can convince them we are actually them, then we not only get out of here alive, but also a free ticket out of the city! We can even go to New York and see what the fuss is all about!"

"But I don't–"

"You have to! I can't even imagine–"

The door crashed open.

I moved, faster than I ever have, in fear of my life and in the high of frustration. Closing the gap of fifteen feet in the blink of an eye, the soldier did not even have time to lower his gun before I grabbed his arm and jerked him heavily to the side. He would have let out a yell of pain, but already his head was deforming into a slurp of red goo, along with the rest of him. I felt a good night's rest with a slight case of visual sickness.

"Change!"

There were more footsteps coming, so quickly we could never escape them. In a panic, I held onto the drowning image of the dead soldier, and heaved, fusing him into me. He joined me, angrily demanding to be let into the peace of death, but I silenced him, and put on his form, his armor, his training. My body felt unnatural, and when I looked down, I saw myself in military gear, and the dead man's gun in my hand. Bloodtox.

"You find anything here?"

I snapped my head up. Standing there was the staff sergeant, peering at me from a trio of blue lenses. Behind him were more busy men, like ants skittering through the void house.

"No, sir," I steadily replied, remembering to act like a rock statue incapable of complex thoughts. He stared for a second, as if he could somehow see past my guise. We held this glass position for a full five seconds. Finally he just grunted, anticlimactically. However, before he could leave, he flew straight to the ceiling with a startled exclaim. I looked up to find a stream of red, which lazily dropped to the ground in a lump and rebuilt itself into Ethan, who grinned at me.

"Not bad, but we work on your acting skills. Now repeat after me: when a officer stares you down, don't stare back."

I ignored his comment. "Now what?"

"And now," he winked, "we use this new suit I stole and get us out of here." Once again before me he was gone, replaced by a dead man's decaying skin, so freshly preserved it will never be let go. Just like all the voices in my head.

ooo

We found the perfect spot overlooking the compound, a fortified ring of concrete walls and a metal gate, complete with high tower turrets which whirred in circles, scanning the surrounding streets for infected. Besides the ridiculous defenses, it was no less than an armory. Tanks were parked in neat rows, next to the green military trucks for transportation. Soldiers milled around in ordered formation and tight gait, carrying weapons from standard rifles to anti-armor rocket launchers. Two helicopters were parked on ground, along with another on a helipad on a low roof. Shells were being loaded into one of the tanks' barrels.

"This looks easy," I commented. Of course it was in no way easy. Three strange machines had been set up around the perimeter of the base. They resembled sorts of a stereotypical, mishap solar system simulator used by physicists, except for there were no planets, just a gigantic ring which rotated in circles and glowing a green light. I knew what they were. I saw them on TV, too. Viral detectors sounds safe when you are human, but rather a pain in the ass when you're not.

"Very easy," agreed Ethan. "We just need to take apart those detectors, and boom, we're free to go anywhere." I thought it was a rather wild gamble, until something far away caught my attention.

"If so, then isn't that our stroke of luck?" I nodded past the base. There a mass of red eyes slowly converged onto the base, which was in a frantic movement as every soldier ran to the assigned position. High pitched alarms rung loudly. The three tanks started with notable speeds, the blinking lights showering away in the orderly chaos as they rolled out of the iron gate. One let off a wild shot, which veered into the side of a building, doing nothing.

The infected hit the fort like a hammer.

"Brawlers," I heard Ethan curse under his breath.

The brawlers are terrible creatures. Somehow, the virus mutates a normal human being into a giant lizard-dog hybrid, and gives it claws and a mouth full of sharks' teeth. Their skin shared the leathery look, tight over bulging muscles and eyes were all gloweringly red with murderous intent.

The machine turrets blazed into the crowd with their automatic guns. The lead brawler tumbled into the dirt in a rain of crimson, though the one behind it quickly took its place. One leaped onto a tank and was blasted away by a mounted machine gun. The gunner swung around only to find another on the other side. His screams were eerie as he was dragged away.

"Now is the opportunity." I nodded and we jumped.

The ground-shattering impact of our landing from a full twelve story building was lost in the chaos of tank shells and monstrous howls. As we ran into the base, no one stopped us for identification. We were only another two soldiers, going to grab weapons to face the tide of apocalypse outside. The first viral detector was already going full on crazy from the mass of the virus outside, and we easily smashed it to pieces when no one was looking. The second was too confused. Its green light was yellow from the presence of distant infection. I shot it with a rifle before it could register our own marks. There was only one left.

"Fire at will!" The first creature that breached the iron gate was not a brawler, but rather a huge human, fifteen feet tall at least, its skin hanging by drapes on the exposed muscles and plates of bone covering it head to toe like an armor. Its blood-red eyes were terrible as its sharp blades for hands pulled it through the ruined gate. The thing was fast, too, so fast it blurred when it charged, but bullets were faster, pinning it back and throwing it out the door in a shower of blood. An earthquake roar was heard from far away. A tremor shook the earth.

I looked at Ethan's masked face. "That's not good."

"This whole thing is not good! The transport would be leaving right now if the base wasn't under siege!" he yelled over the noise. A rocket sizzled across the compound and landed amongst the viral creatures, blasting a hole in the wall of flesh, revealing for a brief second the tanks that still roamed before being blocked out by more bodies and bullets.

"Then why don't we just take the transport," I yelled back, making myself heard over the small war. He stared like I was crazy, and then looked at the helicopter parked on the roof, then back at me.

I thought he might tell me I finally lost my mind. Instead he grinned. "Then what are we waiting for?"

The fighting had progressed worse and worse. A big, fat, slug of an infected was pounding away at a tank, which in turn was blowing a hole through a pack of brawlers. Juggernaut, the thing was called, for its high density meat and its powerful blows. Amidst the army of flesh another one of the tall things climbed through the iron gate after a great wave of zombies, its height allowing it to tower over its viral brethren. A few bullets grazed its bone plates, and instead of roaring back as per standard infected procedure, the thing was absolutely silent as it almost flew at its target: a squad of marines still holding their position relatively well against a pair of brawlers. They were decimated.

"Quickly!" The helicopter was two floors up, which we climbed, for something had landed heavily on the metal ladder up and bent it out of shape. And that was when a soldier thought people shouldn't be scaling concrete walls like monkeys on vine plants.

"Hey!" Bullets blew dust from the walls into my eyes. Even as I flipped over the top, one struck my shoulder. The pain was instantaneous.

Bloodtox was a very powerful substance, developed in response to the first outbreak in Manhattan. Although a few months ago the chemical only caused extreme discomfort to infected creatures, it has since been improvised to not only set nerves on fire, rather burn away viral tissue. My left shoulder was on fire from the wound. As I slowed a fraction of speed in agony, another bullet burst through my knee, and I almost dropped.

"Hold on!" I might have screamed as someone threw me haphazardly into the open bay of the helicopter. Another stream of bullets pounded the metal walls, dinging like a loud and angry drum. And then the engine was up, the doors closing. I felt the heaviness of rising motion, and then a terrible roar, this time so close I thought we were going to be eaten. The radio transmission buzzed.

"Los Angeles high command, we have a hijacked–" Whatever was the later part of the message was lost as something heavy smashed into the ground, the shockwave was felt like an explosion, even so far up in the sky. Perhaps this was the end, because there was no escape now, not between the military and the giant monster. The burning did not go away on my shoulder or right knee, so instead I made them, by sinking into the eternal well with the others. Darkness closed over the world.

**A/N**

I would like more reviews than the pitiful few I am getting. It's hard to know what you guys want if you don't tell me! So tell me! So far, the plot is very flexible to fit in some random stuff. If you post suggestions, I will most likely not respond to them in case I give away possible spoilers (other than a "thank you"). However, you should know that every suggestion is being carefully analyzed by me and my editor to see if I can somehow incorporate it into the story.

Infected juggernaut and bloodtox introduced! Now you know why a few simple soldiers can beat the evolved with infantry rifles. Juggernaut is fat (I think we all know that one).

The tall thing, so far without a name (because I want reviews for suggestions on what to name it), is a new infected breed. It has blades for hands, and very fast. However, it is not as durable or as strong as the fatty juggernaut. Inspired by X-Men and Metro.

Shout out to **ZeroAcception **for his famed story _When Bioweapons Collide_! (And also for his continued support!)

To **Kane**: wanna guess what happened to Alex? There are hints in every chapter. Other nations are not the primary focus of this story. There will be little notes every here and there about their status (currently: low level infection around borders), but they can do nothing about what is currently happening in the States. As for Dana, she will play a minor role in this story. However, she is definitely NOT the same Dana from [Prototype 2]. Here's a sneak peek at my own notes for the story: "Affiliation: self, Alex Mercer." Bye to you too, but hopefully I will see you again.


	5. Slave to Truth

Part II – A City of Death

"_Why do you denounce us? We will bring you to the light. From us you can be great. From us you can be powerful. From us you can be free! So save yourself from the corrupt influences of these wild beasts. We will make you a saint from our stories, the saint who burned away the shackles of the creator! Join us in our path to bring peace to this rotten world!"_

Welcome to New York City, the classic metropolitan of the modern world, in its grandeur and richness, magnificence and beauty. Everywhere were skyscrapers, their tops lunging up into the clouds, their surfaces reflective of the sun's bright rays. Far to one side, in the distance, hills and greenery painted a stunning background. To the other was the ocean, with its forever, deep blueness. Occasionally ships could be seen crossing the water pathways, trailing behind them a row of ocean foam. The sight was incredible from high above.

Down below was different. People glanced constantly behind their backs to watch for a secret terribleness hiding within the dark mist, one that might just so quickly snatch away an unsuspecting victim. Others were not so lucky to live in fear; their already-dead corpses threw themselves at the waves of incoming bullets and artillery shells. Drastic action had not yet been taken; no bombers flew in the drop crates of shells, nor was there the constant hum of helicopters buzzing around, yet somehow the city was in a grim mood, as though the veil of darkness had already descended.

Of course I was not bothered. Sitting casually in an empty café, I tapped a finger rhythmically on the table top. The waitress was extremely nervous. Her hands were shaking when she brought me my coffee, which sat on the table, untouched. The money I paid her came from some other guy, just another memory now in my well. Perhaps I was getting sentimental, but the guy didn't like coffee, so I didn't touch it.

The bell chimed. I looked up and found a large man squeezing through the tiny door. He took a seat opposite of me. The waitress was nowhere to be found.

"Did you find anything?"

"Mhm. They have no idea we are here, and to be honest, I think they don't really care either. Most of the infection are still in Los Angeles and Houston. According to an officer I snagged earlier, Mercer is on the other side of the country." The officer had been a pain. Before he died, he had broken and swallowed a vial of bloodtox, poisoning himself. He gave me a slight case of indigestion. "What about you?"

"Yes, I found them, and they might as well have painted a big target on their backs, unless there's something more obvious than a giant pyramid sitting in the middle of the city with the words _Order of Evolution_ inscribed on the front–" He stopped.

The waitress had returned. She gulped when she saw the newest visitor, but bravely asked him for his order. He only said he didn't want anything, and the waitress happily slipped away again. I might have applauded her for such a daring bravery.

"Anyways, the building is just across the city. It's funny how we missed it on our way here. But then again, we flew pretty low." He took a swish from my coffee. "So I guess the fastest way would be to run on the rooftops, but I got a feeling the government doesn't like that. The next option is taxi, but in this city, where even before the infection the streets are crowded every minute of the hour, I doubt we'd get anywhere." He took another swish.

"So are you saying we should walk?"

He grinned. "Why not?"

ooo

We were soon pushing ourselves through the crowded streets, despite the looming Armageddon. Patrolling on the side of the streets, which people gave a wide berth around, were soldiers, in squads of four, robotically marching through the streets without intent or purpose. Their masks and visors hid their face and their weapons menacingly pointed at the sky. Once I saw they corner a man and searched his pockets, but a few seconds later let him go, without arresting his possessions.

The morning sun was soon covered by a thick layer of clouds. Still, no less people crowded the streets, though we were finally a bit more free once we had gotten out of the Central Park area and into what was considered the more dangerous infected zones, where, despite the name, rarely were any infected ever seen, and if they appeared, they were also shot to death on sight. More soldiers patrolled the area. Occasionally the deathly screams of brawlers and other infected could be heard from far away, though they also silenced quickly in nothing.

We passed an armed squad.

"Hey, you!" one of them yelled. He pointed his rifle at us, and his mates followed suit. I did not like them; they were too close and too hostile. I took a defensive stance. One wouldn't be too much trouble, neither would two. Three was stretching it. For four, we just needed to move quickly. But there were two of us, so all four fell in the blink of an eye, and were gone before their fallen weapons clattered uselessly to the ground. Five seconds later two soldiers continued onward. They were not stopped any further.

In a few minutes, when we caught sight of the structure, it indeed felt like this Order was advertising itself to the military command in the city. A pyramid, though not Egyptian style, rather a conglomeration of twisting silver snaking around panels of glass, stood tall and proud in front of us. I have to admit that I was impressed, at least by the sheer craft of the modern architecture and the looming size of it. The cloudy sky reflected perfectly in its shiny surface. The front face featured a pair of double doors, their glass structure allowing a clear sight to the front desk and the immediate interior. Reflective materials encircled the entire thing. It looked as if the steel supports were trying to enclose the glass structure by leaping to the top in strings.

"Wow," I breathed. I would be content to just stand there and stare.

"Young lady, you are not the first person to say that, and I guarantee that you will not be the last, either." I hate how people sneak up on me, especially when I'm in a mood of either awe or just simply stupendous. I whirled around to find a man with an atypically friendly smile on his face. He looked like a priest, with his all black robes in the heat and a golden cross on a little chain around his neck. I thought he looked stupid, especially with the way his shaven beard was starting to grow out again. "Allow me to introduce myself," and which he did, "I am Abbot Douglas McGiffin, the head of this particular branch and the holy servant of the archbishop." That certainly sounded important. "May I ask what bring you to our Order?" Of course you may, but you might not get the truthful answer.

Instead of saying that, I answered, "Uh, we heard from a, um, friend." He stared, and I only stared back. He shifted.

Finally he felt awkward enough to continue. "Can you tell me more about your friend? Perhaps I might know him." Then, "Or her," he added.

"Um, he lives in Los Angeles."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. We just got to New York."

And just like that, we were being ushered into the large complex by the abbot. He seemed unusually excited to be pushing us while talking to himself. "We are going to see the archbishop," explained the abbot, who started sending some sort of electronic text. As we proceeded, the etching within the glass that proclaimed _Order of Evolution_ seemed to glare down at us tainted souls. The silver steel swallowed us whole.

"So what has been happening in the city of angels?" At our skeptical look, the abbot quickly explained, "Don't worry. I'm not some secret government agent," he joked. "I know exactly what is going on around. In fact," he looked us up and down, "I know that when one of my people specifically mentions the Order to a stranger, this stranger is very peculiar. Though in a good way, of course. I didn't mean to be … intrusive in this matter. In fact, we are all very different here." Something about his tone set me off.

"We barely escaped with our lives." Ethan shrugged, as if it was only a minor hindrance, still staring at the interior of stainless steel. Fortunately, the interior was brightly lit with the glass dome from the outside, no matter the cloudy skies. However, that assurance soon disappeared, along with all of the natural light, as we descended down a staircase. The space was too small, despite the room allowing all three of us to walk abreast. The air smelled fresh, yet somehow dead. I stilled the urge to fan myself.

Abbot Douglas chose not to comment on the reply, though from the way he walked stiffly he felt awkward. After all, it was probably not the average response.

In our eyes were the unwelcoming glares of florescent lights. Beneath our feet were the unyielding hard floor tiles, their patterns mesmerizing and confusing. I stared at the labyrinth of corridors, all turning and twisting away, with relatively few people trudging through almost aimlessly. "This is a really big place."

The abbot looked surprised I asked. "Of course. This was personally designed by one of our senior members. We're only in the offices levels: the complex itself actually stretches farther down than this. But no one really goes that far down; it's mostly for storages."

I only nodded.

Sometimes on the clean, white plaster walls were pictures. A few were of the building's construction, a few of unsmiling people staring out of their stiff suits, a few of some sorts of religious paintings. They were somehow disturbingly quiet, yet I did not expect them to move.

At one point the hall ended in a set of double doors, featureless save for a pair of brass handles. Abbot Douglas pushed the door open and stood to the side to let us in. When he closed the door behind us, I couldn't help but feel trapped. The chamber was large, and in its center stood a small trio of odd, hooded priests, all with their heads bowed to the center, where stood the archbishop.

As my eyes fell upon the archbishop, the bother dissipated. Though no matter from which perspective, he was a simple man, in an all-white robe and a cross dangling from the slight ornaments on his shoulders. Perhaps that was it, that he was so ordinary; he was all the people who listened discreetly out of curiosity and secretly offered condolences; he was all the strangers who took a minute to understand and openly sympathized, despite the strange hollowness distinctly radiating from him. I was so fragile then, that a simple trick lured me away. I was a fly, snared within a web. Though whose, I did not know.

"Welcome." His voice boomed in my head, vibrating off of the walls of the huge chamber. It was powerful and kind, like a father standing over the shoulder of a falling child, encouraging and inspirational. He spread his arms as if to give us a hug.

"This is Archbishop Ronald Peterson," whispered Abbot Douglas out of the corner of his mouth. We had stopped just sort of the circle of sparsely space priests. The spatial distance was both far away and too close. When we didn't move, he nudged us forward, yet he himself stood away.

We stepped closer.

"From our ancestors and bloodlines, we welcome you to our home," the archbishop proudly announced, ignoring the abbot, who stood awkwardly just outside of the tiny circle, now with six of us. Was he frowning, or was he almost shivering in anticipation?

"Within our humble abbey lies our wishes to the world. And with every drop of sincerity we wish you to join me on a little voyage in this little hearth.

"Here we preach to the peace and health of the mankind, and today is the day you join us on our journey, not for our own deep, selfish desires, but for the greater future beyond us. In life we bring power to the weak, and in death we are martyrs to the cause. When we finally pass on, there shall be those brave enough to take upon this mantle. With this mantle comes next the light in our souls, and the disgrace be blown away!

"Here in this light, we bring gifts to this world, gifts of happiness, sadness, life, and death. We are all, and all is us. When one of us fall, we all rise together in our honor. We stand strong, stronger than all the evilness can throw at us, stronger than the unholy determination of the wicked. We take wisdom and power from the past and strike away the darkness within ourselves and others. We bring glory to His name.

"Here we have gathered in the name of His Holiness to seek His forgiveness. Oh, our sins! Here we shall stand in His name and pray to our glorious days. And here, here, and here we are as one, bound in our future our souls, forever in His light. Blasted be the sinful, and in eternity be damned their taint. We shall rise above their pettiness and their crimes, to the Heaven's gate itself! In us you will find the answer to your secret darkness.

"And here, when you join us, in the shower of splendor we will shine! Together, there will only be greatness. So become us, and we will all become you. With us you are the force to rewrite history itself! And then," he paused, suddenly, rolling to a halt in an unstoppable roar. His thin arms raised once again to the unseen sky. "And then in our strength we will break away the barrier of our existence, and forever be a part of the stars."

I only stood there. Within my head played visions of the divine light which would sweep away the horror in the world. There was much glory to those words, words which have imprinted themselves in my mind. I saw myself, a member of this holy Order, at the head of its charge, bringing light to the people. As my knees softened and limbs loosened, I was slowly sinking into a black abyss surrounded by a world of blue, a light far, far away up. I didn't grab for it, nor make an effort to swim up. There was simply no need. Why must I reach for something that didn't exist? I felt within my heart only a peacefulness brought by the words. The world slowly grew darker. I would have fallen to my knees in the next second.

"No."

**A/N**

What a great and inspiring speech! That one took me forever, which is one of the reasons I have decided to prematurely end this chapter.

Just as a side note, despite what my character Archbishop Peterson has said, he **does not **reflect my own personal religious opinions, which I will refuse to discuss. I just chose a religion that I know well. (And please don't try to debate with me my religious preferences. You will do nothing but tick me off.)

So here's another chapter. It's a bit shorter than the previous two, and slow, but don't worry. It's just in a really bad place in the plot. The next chapter will have a lot of actions and emotional stuff. I'll only warn you to hold onto your seats! And remember: suggestions are still open! (And they will be unless we're like right next to the climax.)

To **ZeroAcception**: eh but it sounds too much like Brawler Pack Leader, which I am still deciding on whether to implement it into the story or not. And plus, it is not really related to the brawler family (which includes brawlers, brawler hunters, pack leaders, hunters(?) ).

To **ProtoGod**: idk, but since all the other infected specimen are named after really descriptive stuff in English (eg Brawler, Juggernaut, Goliath), I feel like Latin doesn't fit the theme. You get me?


	6. Fireflies

"_The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before_."

– John Green

"No."

The waves' hold on me deepened. It was angry. The light was suddenly shining, so brightly it cast away the darkness to the deep. The blackness fought back, refusing to yield, light against dark, to dominate the vast nothingness. It was then I felt the heavy pressure and its menace, to devour me whole. It was then I felt the grinning victory of the darkness, its insanity coiling around me. It was then I gave myself to the madness, and clawed myself away from the clutches of the water and swam upwards, to the light that didn't exist.

"We are all the same in this broken world, which is why we must stand together to bring it back together."

Then the darkness let out its terror. I felt slippery things grip onto my legs, to drag me back into the abyss. I kicked it away, but another grabbed on, then another, and another. The light was disappearing again! But in such a state of dementia I laughed, my precious air escaping away.

"No."

Someone threw a fishing line at me, and I held it tight. It was pulling me away from the jaws below. The devouring monster! It's eyes glowed red, rising to chase me. The light burned it as it left its darkness, but it was not enough. Even as the dark flesh blistered and fried in heat, even as its limbs turned to a distorted skeleton, it was rising. I saw a maw of whirling teeth and the skin of total chaos.

"In this place exist the holy–"

"No."

I was free! The monster lost its speed, and was now in desperation. The light was too strong here! I was free! In the distant blue flakes of white swirled. They were angels, thousands and thousands of them. They welcomed me away from the darkness, and then they returned to mere specks, the glowing dust settling on my skin. I was free, the light just above me, the surface now visible!

There was a loud crash.

"How–?"

"Wake up!"

"Kill him!"

I burst through the surface.

The archbishop was frowning at Ethan, who was kicking away a priest. Everyone but the archbishop had magically grown strange weapons. The abbot featured a large blade, while the priests had a pair of smaller ones. Ethan wore claws, their points shining in the dull light. The priest he kicked away flew across the room and cracking the wall opposite.

"Run!" He yelled at me, but the abbot had chosen that moment to backhand him ten yards away, almost casually. He sprung away to evade an attack from a priest. The priests were no longer priests. Their robes changed to black armor and hoods. Their faces disappeared under shadows. Their arms glistened red from where their arms became a metallic silver.

"An–!"

"Child," then the archbishop was there. He gripped my arms with unnatural strength. "That man is not who he says he is. He belong to the betrayers," that word he spat. I shied my eyes away from those demonic stars, but still I couldn't move. "Listen to me! You must–" He fell away when a set of claws nearly decapitated him, carving away the flesh around the neck in chunks. Then he tried to hit Ethan, but missed, and was forced to retreat when the claws kept on flashing at him. "Get rid of him!"

The abbot charged, and even when his blade was deflected away, he did not stop, slamming with the force of a freight train into Ethan's other claw. They both slammed hard into the walls, burying them in debris and dust. Then the abbot leaped away from the cloud, a set of ugly marks on his face, even as they faded away. Ethan emerged to sprint for the retreating man.

A priest tried to block Ethan's retaliation, but then took the blunt of the attack. He was swept into the air, then slammed down hard into the earth. The entire room shook. While the priest was down, another leaped into the air, and was batted away into the last, sending them both tumbling away.

The archbishop filled my vision again. "Child, please," he pleaded, "we must fix the ruin we are imposing on ourselves! Together, there–" A set of claws emerged from his chest, cutting his words off. His eyes glowed. "This is enough!" Turning around so quickly his form blurred, he grabbed both of Ethan's claws. His hands were cut apart by the sharp steel, though that did not stop him from squishing the claws into mush. The scream that followed was terrible, and the archbishop was terrible, and everything was terrible. I saw nothing short of a demon in front of me.

A priest took the opportunity to jump onto Ethan, who was slowly giving ground to the monstrous form of the archbishop. Peterson was tightly holding onto new claws, which cut into the old man's hands, but were halted by themselves as if the sheer density of the archbishop was unstoppable. By this time the abbot chose to join in. The four of them creating a brawl of blood and teeth. Death by dismemberment was something I will never forget, not in this long, long life. I could only watch as my only friend was cut away to pieces, quicker than he could regenerate, and into more pieces, until finally there was nothing left to regenerate. What the archbishop was holding finally was no more than a pair of bloody stumps, which he dropped and kicked away like rats.

It was then I truly fell to my knees, soaking myself in the pool of red blood and biomass. Chunks of flesh were everywhere, covering the priests, the abbot and the archbishop. Together they were demons, with only their crude weapons showing. I would have cried, but my body decided it was a waste of energy. I would have lapsed into forever silence, but my mind thought it was a pointless action. I would have devoured myself, but the virus demanded my life.

I was pulled up by my arms again. The archbishop was suddenly as himself only minutes before, clean and holy. He dominated my vision. His voice was boomingly loud, echoing off of the far walls of the chamber. I could not meet his eyes, which burned dark as night. "Why do you denounce us?" he yelled into my face, each syllable a thunder loud, each word the death of worlds. "We will bring you to the light. From us you can be great. From us you can be powerful. From us you can be free! So save yourself from the corrupt influences of these wild beasts." He shook my arms until my entire body racked lifelessly. "We will make you a saint from our stories, the saint who burned away the shackles of the creator! Join us in our path to bring peace to this rotten world!" Even still I could not hear him, not from the louder voice in my head. Blacklight pounded in my ears until the world muted itself.

_What will you do now_, it whispered, a poison in my mind. _How will you live now, when your only attachment to life is gone?_

I didn't respond. Instead in my mind I saw something terrible: Blacklight. It was a red, pulsing mass, and with each movement, it grew, and grew, until it took up all my vision, until everywhere I turned I would only see its fleshy surface. But I had no need to turn, not when I was speaking to myself. A face emerged in front of me: my own. It had my skin and my hair, but it was wrong. Its eyes were red, glowing in evilness. Its hair was a stream of frozen flames, glowing orange. Patches of its cheek were ashy crimson, and transparent, through which cracks I saw a beating heart, with vines of red latched onto its feeble beats. The blood it pumped was flaked with black dots, each of which squirmed in protest.

"_Where is your strength,_" the other me whispered, its voice hollow and rotten. When it opened its mouth, there were only rings of sharp teeth and a tongue with rowed edges. "_What is your life, if not nothing but a chain of turmoil?_"

I shook my head. There was nothing to answer.

My deformity suddenly rushed forward, but I didn't not fear it and made no move to flinch away. Finally it saw I was not afraid. "_Good. You should not fear yourself. But that was the easy part. Now you must embrace me, and together we will be you, and you will be your own god._" It sounded too familiar for comfort, but this time there was no one to save me, from not myself.

The surrounding flesh pulsed, brighter and brighter until each was a day and night. Its masses shifted. In front of me the specter was pushing itself through the mass, as if a newborn finally experiencing the new world. The rest of its skin were more damaged than its cheeks, the glowing fire covered with ash everywhere. One of its arms emerged to be a blade, a thin piece, but no less sharper than anything else. Its other arm was weighed down, by a chain a flail that had had trouble been dragged out of the flesh. With a start, I realized it was taller than me, but its feet somehow sunk into the ground, and thus we were eye to eye. Its bright red eyes stared unblinkingly while its flesh dripped down in liquid.

"_You must become all of you, not just your weak and pathetic human side,_" it spat. "_A mortal has no place in the future, not in a future as dark as this. If you want to live, then know your power! We shall be one, and as one we will tread this world underfoot._"

I might have been shaking or crying, or possibly even stoically staring at my death, at its marred, beautiful face and its deathly stars of life. I could not lift my head. My vision fell to my feet.

"_There is nothing for you left, not from your friend. If you will accept that, then I shall join you._" It sounded almost compassionate. I was surprised.

When I looked up again, there was a miracle. In front of my eyes the demon dissipated. First was its beautiful face, which smoothed and became colorful and lovely, then its hair, which melted into a pretty dark color. Its blade, when it raised it, defused until clumps of it fell into the liquid earth. All that remained was a child's hand, which was held out to me. An offering.

"_Take my hand, and take your fate._" From a pretty mouth emerged the words of the virus, a cloud of blight which corroded away at everything it touched. Yet as I looked, I saw nothing but myself. I stared at me, and I stared back. Finally, I took my hand. It held the grip until my hand was being crushed.

"_And change the world_."

Then it punched its other hand, a fist, into my stomach. I felt no pain from the blood that erupted like a red fountain. The crimson droplets rained onto us both, a coat of tasteless mortality. My knees were weak, but the hand that held mine kept me steady. The creature ripped into my insides, piling out the intestines, a deflated stomach, other nasty organs, until finally it found something. I let a scream as it was ripped away from me, and then I was looking at my own heart, in its dying pulses.

"_Make us whole again._"

It crushed the human heart.

Immediately I felt empty, dying. I almost slipped away, but still I was held tight by one hand, which never wavered, even while the bones in that hand were crushed to dust by the unnatural strength. My last vision was of the creature's face, once again deformed and monstrous, bearing onto mine, as though for a kiss. And I yielded to the insanity.

ooo

"I think we lost her."

I lashed out without conscious thought, catching a surprised lump of flesh in the center and sending it flying away. I opened my eyes, expecting heavy chains and armed guards, but instead saw something else. The archbishop was picking himself up from the ground, his expression of disbelief. His entire right arm was gone, though the empty air was being slowly reclaimed by appendages of red. His white robe was once again stained by red, though he did not notice it. In my hand was a cross, attached to it golden chains.

I stared at him and he stared back. I crushed the cross. "Vengeance will find you," I promise. Before anyone could stop me, I turned and ran.

The door we had come through offered no resistance as I smashed through it, and bowling into another priest behind it. The priest did not have time to react as I flew like a ball of teeth at him. He got as far as to cloth himself in red before he split in half, from to the head to the crotch, his remains disappearing in a slurp into me. I could yells far behind me, and a loud blare that echoed paired with flashing red lights.

I felt like I was losing myself in the labyrinth. Occasionally there were signs, signs which I smashed through without time to read them, and walls with craters in them as I was forced to stop and turn. I chose paths randomly, and did my best to skirt around people. Everything was the same: the empty walls, the dead fluorescent lights, the white tiles that blinded you if you stared.

And then I saw the pictures, the paintings of old people, probably dead, and photos of other people, none of whom I recognized, and they were a savior, because I did now know where I was. Down one way led to the chamber with the dead man, and the other to the surface and freedom. I chose freedom.

The entrance hall was exactly as I remember it, though people looked alarmed at the alarms. Men with security jackets ran about, their stun batons in hand and frantic voices over walkie-talkies. The clouds still loomed over the city and the world was still as it should be. Surely there was nothing wrong, unless you count how everyone stared at my glowing blades.

"Watch out!" yelled a security, as I leaped up and landed directly in front of gunman, who managed to pop a shot into my chest. It wasn't even laced with bloodtox, so I whacked him away for all his troubles. The locked glass doors proved to be bullet proof, but not superman proof. My first punch cracked the glass, and the second put a hole in it. After the third half of the door was gone. Spectators stared in shock; more than one person were not dialing numbers into their phones.

Somehow the world outside changed so much. I saw people, wearing their fears on their eyes, scrambling away. I saw animals, snarling at me before disappearing away to whatever nest they spawned from. I saw in the distance infected creatures, brutally taking apart a squad of outmatched soldiers. I ran to, from my memories, the closest air bridge off of Staten Island. Sirens followed me, though they had trouble keeping up as I danced from wall to wall, never touching the ground in a childhood game of lava. The pursuers gradually fell away.

As I actually came within sight of the air bridge, my heart fell. Neat rows of tanks were parked along the road, complimented by marines, lots of marines, turrets, heavy turrets designed to shred through solid metal. A shell flew my way, and I leaped onto a wall to avoid the blast.

"Evolved! Call for strike team!" someone yelled. Fearing attacks, I climbed, like spider man, except for I was more spider-like than man-like, skittering up the vertical slope ten yards at a time. Another missile missed me, blowing away where I would have been a second ago. Machine guns sprayed bullets en mass at my general direction. They had terrible accuracy.

I grunted as a bullet chipped me. The bloodtox had only minimal effect, burning itself away while I escaped another round of shelling.

Suddenly I heard an earth-shattering boom, its force enough to shake surrounding buildings. Half perched on the side, I took the risk to glance down. Firstly I regretted it, as vertigo was slightly discomforting, but soon I didn't, not as the slaughter began.

The hooded man dove at a tank like a cannonball. Upon impact the entire tank caved in, and then exploding out in a spectacular show of fire. Marines dived away while autonomous turrets sprayed bullets, but the man was already too far away, darting through the slow armors so quickly their tracking sensors could not get a good shot. He dodged a missile by flipping high into the air, and that was when I saw him.

Alex Mercer, the embodiment of Blacklight, number one threat in the North America continent, the infamous biological terrorist, looked very much like he did on TV. A stained hood that had once been white shadowed most of his face so that only two orbs of red glared out from under them. His jacket was too hot for the weather, and jeans worn. But he was beyond ordinary from that. There seemed to be a gravitational field around him, as if he dominated the entire block with his tiny figure.

And he landed, blowing up dust from the streets. From his back grew an appendage, which grabbed the nearest car and tossed it at a turret. It sailed so perfectly. The machine was not quick enough to blow it to pieces, and was instead smashed in a furious storm of sparks. The marines were in a panic now, retreating towards the bridge and hoping to defend it to the death. How silly their worries. If Alex Mercer wanted to cross the bridge, they wouldn't even know he was there until the other island turned into a viral zone.

"We have a visual on Alex Mercer. Repeat, we have a visual on Mercer, requesting–" the commander stopped yelling in his radio when he cursed and dove forward to avoid a screeching tank that Mercer had somehow kicked fifty yards off the bridge and into the ocean. The marines, however few of them left, scattered away.

A sudden barrel of rockets onto the streets, which Mercer gracefully avoided by dashing away, announced the arrival of the strike team. Three helicopters, carrying the insignia of elite US Air Force, blew away half the block to smithereens until they've exhausted their supply of rockets, then some more, as Mercer appeared again behind a dead tank. I didn't watch anymore. With a feral scream, I pushed away from the building, shattering the glass with my departure, and dove at the helicopter trio.

The first one I missed, but not the second one as I latched myself to its underside. I heard the panic of the men inside, but had no time to savor in their fear, not when one of the other pilots already noticed me, and was bringing his chopper around to get a good shot. I stuck a fist through the flooring and into the helicopter itself. There were several yells, as I forced more biomass into my hand, and with some pressure, made it explode. The yells were silenced as hundreds of fleshy strings hooked into exposed flesh and armor, and then began to devour the men from inside out. With my other hand I carved away the entire floor and hoisted myself up while the four men inside were busy dying. The pilot didn't stand a chance, his brains smeared against the windshield. The turning helicopter was too busy worrying about the conditions inside the one I had hijacked, and was rewarded with a pod of rocket I blasted at it. It was overkill, especially when half of the explosives didn't even hit, just doing more collateral damage, say carving out another chunk of a half collapsed building. The last helicopter was completely oblivious, and the fifty-cal was enough to shoot down its rotors, where it crashed to the ground in a ball of fire. It was quite an adventure.

When I looked down again, Mercer was gone, leaving behind him a wake of destruction. Out of the six tanks, four where wasted, a fifth one stuck three floors up in a building and the sixth one in the ocean. Out of thirty six marines, all were dead, though few bodies remained. Out of the two automatic turrets, one had been smashed apart while the other was simply missing, as if someone thought to remove not only the part that shot but also the entire pedestal it stood on.

I let my helicopter crash into the ground beside the other while standing safely away on a low rooftop. It was a waste, but the machine was practically inoperable, especially with the bottom half missing. Standing on the roof, the carnage below seemed rather excessive, especially when most of the asphalt was missing from the helicopter bombardment and Mercer's inefficient killing spree. I stood there a while, just staring.

"Would you betray your order for this monster?"

"My order never existed," I answered and turning around, angry that I had let someone get the drop on me, "I was just another casualty of war until someone found me."

Behind me stood three men, in black armor and shadowy hoods. Their hands were already gone, replaced by wicked blades. I eyed them warily.

"Then you shall be gone!" As one they charged.

It would have been a good strategy, attacking me all at once, but the one in the middle reached me first, and the other two were blocked. I lashed out with crude biomass, catching the man in the chest and blasting him away. The second leaped in an overhead chop, which dented the ground while it missed. The third spun at me, but I jumped high.

Far in the distance (and beside me), great columns of smoke rose into the air. Several fires illuminated remote buildings, and sirens were everywhere. The beast was rising. I fell back down.

An evolved attempted to make me land on a pair of sharp blades, but I adjusted my course and landed on him instead, sending him into the floor below. Another took a clumsy swipe at me and I ducked. The third one followed up quickly, earning me a slash across the back. I danced away in a cloud of shifting biomass.

On adjacent roofs I saw more of them, evolved people staring hungrily at me. On farther roofs I noted blurred shapes too big to be evolved, and too fast to be animals.

When the second evolved came at me again, I shoved him, hard, into the third, tumbling them both over the roof to below. When the first dug himself out of the disadvantage of a floor, I kicked him in the face and knocked him back.

Someone landed heavily on the other side of the roof. I spared a quick glance to find two more of them in a dead sprint for me. It was quite annoying how the Order somehow always managed to find more people to throw at me. Taking a chance, I jumped, or rather, fell, down.

The ground rushed quickly to meet me, and I slammed into it with full force. The asphalt erupted in a wave of disturbance, throwing up a nearby car. I booted myself away from my own personal crater and ran, with unnatural speed and agility, away from the deadly nest.

The virus had already taken apart several buildings, from which red blobs hung out of the windows and vines as thick as people snaked around the infrastructure.

A quick glance behind me told me seven of them were giving chase, and one of them was different. Not only was he bigger than the rest, but also faster, and more nimble. The razor sharp sign posts I threw at them cut into the evolved, whereas he whacked them away, even throwing one back at me. Ahead was the major infection zone. Clouds of red puffed into the air, along with the black smokes that dominated the city. Bullets began to fly at me as the military waged war against the infected. Brawlers bit off the heads of marines while helicopters blew them away to dust.

The big man, with a leap, caught up to me.

He had expected me to continue running, and by which he would either tackle me or run me through. Instead, I landed heavily on the hood of a car, flipping it into the air. While the man was distracted, slamming into the car instead, I ducked under him and slashed at him. His armor offered little resistance, but somehow he still got up after losing more or less the right side of his body. I saw him sway, but no time to celebrate. The six evolved had also caught up by this point.

The first one I impaled on a lance, and threw him away, cracking the stone foundations of a large building, already claimed by red veins. The second and third charged in quickly, and I was forced to give ground under their ferocious assault. The fourth stopped short, and when a marine thought to shoot at him, he attacked the marine instead, and acquiring an assault rifle. The other two were nowhere in sight, and that was bad.

A blade stabbed into my thigh, and I returned the favor by snapping the arm that held it. A series of pops shot at me, and I was forced to jumped away the avoid the bloodtox bullets. Instead they hit the another evolved, who collapsed and writhed on the ground.

I ran to disable the rifleman, but something slammed into my back, sending me tumbling forward and crushing the passenger side of a car. Groaning in pain and annoyance, I looked back to see the giant man again, his oversized blade raised in victory.

I scrambled away from the ruined vehicle just as the glowing building suddenly flashed too bright. The man stopped in confusion and glanced back, in time to see the side of the building collapse in an avalanche of stone and glass. An evolved wasn't quick enough and disappeared under the debris. The rest scrambled away from the ruins, me forgotten. Yet as I looked into the building, I had forgotten too.

The red viral masses had grown to such a large proportion that they covered the entirety of the inside walls. The flooring and ceiling were mostly eaten away, the only remainder thin ledges on the side of the walls, leaving the building a hollow shell. What had collapsed the wall was something else other than the corrosive chemicals the virus seems to emit. An oversized hand clutched at the side of the jagged edges of the not yet broken stone, at least two men tall. On its knuckles were sharp spikes of bone, each so wicked it gleamed in the dying sunlight. Connected to the hand by an arm of exposed flesh and bones was a giant, filling up most of the empty spaces inside the building. It bared a maw of jagged teeth and eyes of glowing yellow. When it moved forward, strange cords that connected to the red masses detached themselves and fell down, last in their final moments. Its every step shook the world. When it roared, I felt fear, genuine fear, not since when I was little, when my mother told me the story of the boogieman.

"Shit." I heard one of the evolved comment. That I agreed with. As the behemoth took a step forward, they began to back away.

The giant man suddenly seemed to remember something. He looked around frantically. "Hey! Where's the target?!" Too late. When he turned, a lamppost impaled him through the chest. Weakened, he couldn't remove it before I smashed the post until it bent out of shape, still imbedded with him. He stumbled away, cursing me, cursing the evolved for being so useless, cursing the creator for the apocalypse.

The evolved began to notice me, then stopped, as the goliath swung an arm, almost lazily, to remove a chunk out of not just one, but three floors. Falling stone and glass rained on our street. I took advantage of the distraction by hitting an evolved so hard he flew a block away. When the others caught on again, I had already chopped down another, his biomass disappearing into my own. The energy was instantaneous, as though I had drunk a gallon of concentrated caffeine. The other four didn't stand a chance, especially when the goliath stepped on another one as it turned to face a squad of incoming helicopters.

With one hand a thin blade and the other a set of animalistic claws, I took apart the first evolved with ease, whacking away both his blades and digging my claws from his throat to his stomach. While his dying form was absorbed, I knocked away the second evolved with a heavy slash, opening a large hole in his chest, and smashed in the head of the third. He dropped immediately. Then the last evolved was alone. Finally, realizing with his chest opening and closing like an angry clam, he was in no shape to fight, and so ran, up the wall and leaping away. Then it was only the large man, who still struggled with a lamppost bent like a spring through his body. He cursed some more when he saw me approaching.

"You spawn of devil! You will never win! When the archbishop gets a hold of you, you will be buried in the deepest level of hell!"

"Oh, cut me a break from your lunacies," I said drily, while giving him a good kick. He grunted in pain. "I already know I'm going to hell anyways. The only difference is, how many of you do I get to send to heaven painfully before I go?"

"There won't be enough pain in the universe for you!" he yelled, desperately at my approaching form. "You will never–!" He stopped when my suddenly elongated arm grabbed him by the face. I poured more and more mass into the arm until it bulged, and hardened like a rock. He struggled in vain. Annoyed, I grabbed the lamp and ripped it from him. He made a muffled scream.

"Know this, poor spirit: when I am done, your holy Order won't even exist anymore, much less return to bother me. I will search every inch of this world if I have to, until I know with absolute certainty that you cannot be alive, and then I will come for him, the archbishop, until he cries mercy at my feet."

With that I pulled him into me like an angry tide. The memories came, rushing into my head. I felt the futile voices of others that came with him. They were nobodies, failed experiments or just simply people at the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't care for them. They bought me nothing but misery. However, the original spirit, though, dragged brightly amidst the others. I focused on him first. I dug through his identity and a memory came. It was recent.

There the sky was grey, covered from the major fires which spread across the city. Huge columns rose from one particular spot, a compound of sorts. It looked like a factory, though oddly sets of turrets and camera dotted the roofs. Tanks were parked within a barbed fence, surrounded by military men. From the center of the compound rose something huge. It was a large bulb that oddly shone bright red. It reached above the rest of the facility, easily fifty feet at least. I heard a horrible whisper, powerful yet somehow childish, primitive.

_Mother_.

**A/N**

And thus shit went down in NYC.

So this is the end of Part 2, but it won't be the last time you see New York. Our narrator Annalisa here seems to have made quite a couple of enemies. Dangerous enemies, I might add. Anna has been given the powers of a Prototype, yet somehow Alex Mercer always stays ahead of his subjects. And remember: in this story, Alex Mercer IS Blacklight.

A main character death, as promised. I had originally planned to keep Ethan, but due to some outside influences, I have decided that Ethan is an unnecessary complication to the plot. It's quite odd to think that someone I was going to incorporate into the epilogue is completely useless to the events of the story.

My apologies about how action scenes look. I know the last part is a bit ... in a sorry state, but cut me some slack! My editor is on vacation, as per our initial agreements when he/she first started working with me. (JK I didn't really sign a contract with him and I don't really pay him. But he's really on vacation and will hopefully be back when I finish the next chapter.)

To **Sano Hibiki**:

(Review for Ch.1) Thank you very much! :)

(Review for Ch.2) I swear I didn't drop that many hints...

(Review for Ch.3) Again, thank you for your support. It won't be P2 Alex Mercer cuz we really have no idea about the true extent of Mercer's powers, so I basically upgraded him with some crazy stuff from P1. But yes, it will feature his known powers from P2.

(Review for Ch.4&5) Thank you! It's nice to know someone actually read Ch.5 cuz I'm getting no reviews from it! :D


	7. Blooded Fate

Part 3 – Puppet Master and Burning Doll

"_While he controls them, they belong to me. I am the center of the Hivemind, and I am the leader of all. When you do dare cross me, know that I will spare no mercy, to none of my children. Once you realize the true extent of my power, then you will not wonder what I say_."

ooo

"The virus is spreading with worrying speed across the world. Its virulence is greater than experts originally predicted, confirmed reports of infection in three continents and seven countries. United Nations officials are already considering a world-wide quarantine against the deadly outbreak. Several known terrorists have been seen spreading the virus across the globe."

ooo

I ignored the grim announcer overhead, instead staring out the window at the calm country side. Maybe that was what I needed: peace and quiet. But not now. Now I needed to find something.

We had lifted off in a Delta Airlines jet headed for Houston, TX, only two hours ago, already the trip felt a waste of time. After all, I could still be working to undermine the Order, if not for the intense curiosity. It had killed the cat, they say, yet I wonder whether it is not just the cat it kills.

I felt very fortunate when the pilot announced all passengers are now required to wear seatbelts for descent.

The plane was steady as the world below grew larger with almost a magical style. I looked with wonder to the tiny houses crawling with ant cars. They were all strangely the same: the same red or black roofs, the same green surrounding them. I thought it was strange, until I looked farther away. Eerily like Los Angeles and New York, fires were in the distant downtown, yet somehow it was very controlled. The smoke obscured parts of the city, from which when it shifted red masses were revealed, then gone again in the blackness.

"You live around here?"

Surprised, I stammered a "no" and turned to see the man beside me raise an eyebrow. He looked relatively normal (which wasn't all that uncommon), with a baseball cap, a thick jacket and a pair of long khakis. I didn't comment on his choice of heavy clothing. New York was getting cold before we left. I stared at him, until he awkwardly coughed. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, I dunno," he mumbled, scratched his head. "I guess it's just the way you looked so happy when you were looking outside. I mean, it's not like every day you get to sit next to such a beautiful woman." His face burned a little.

I pleasantly smiled at his compliment. "You're not half bad yourself." He was a little on the scruffy side, but lean. I estimated his age at around twenty-five or older.

Of course, before then I'd never thought I could look happy. Everyday consisted of me frowning my way through life, through crowds, through just about everything. Life felt so empty, before, but not during, and after. What a painful way to live, to isolate myself from all, to kill and hide, to fight for life every other day.

"Robert, but my friends call me Bob," he introduced himself, extending a hand. It felt human when I shook it. I liked him already.

"Annalisa, but I prefer Anna."

He smiled, widely, showing two rows of perfect teeth. "Nice to meet you, Anna."

I only lightly smiled. "Likewise."

I went back to staring outside. The skies felt a lot darker near the ground, not like the heavenly angels in the clouds high above the atmosphere. Shadows were everywhere, their whispers urgent and scared. Cars skittered quickly, even the shortest trips too long on the road. The entire city was a bubble, just waiting for the needle to pop.

"So what brings you to Houston?" Again, I felt a flick of surprise.

"Oh, nothing much," I said with an air of indifference, "just visiting an old friend."

He didn't say anything after that.

I felt a tiny tremor as the plane touched the ground. Oddly enough, I felt safer. I checked myself for mental disorders, but then decided it would be a pointless exercise as I have already decided I am crazy. The grinding of wheels on the ground was an irritable sound, but the bumps on the road made up for the strange discomfort. I sneaked a peek at Bob beside me; he was chatting with another man across the aisle. I decided he was simply a man to like.

"Attention, all passengers. Infection cases are present in the city. Hazard zones include the downtown area and the Harris county. You are recommended to stay away from those areas until the issue of the virus is solved." The intercom grunted as the pilot disconnected.

"Seems like this virus is going around," said Bob to the dark-shirted man, who was nodding with furrowed eyebrows in response. The dark-shirted man thought he caught me looking at him, but instead he found I was looking outside again. They resumed their casual conversation.

I was one of the last ones to exit the plane.

As the people slowly filed out of the crowded cabins, I carefully scanned through them. None of them carried the infection, which came as a relief. It would be quite annoying to deal with another evolved in a public airport, especially when I was planning to keep the disguise, at least for another while. A few glanced at me warily, though none said a word. One nodded at my politeness to let him go first, but otherwise all others were stoic in their movements, just like the zombies which ran rampant on the streets.

I had no luggage, to which the flight attendant raised an eyebrow, but said nothing to bring it to my attention. As I pocketed my hands and strode through the airport, I felt oddly out of place. This was a place of business and travel, which didn't include me.

The bar I took a seat at was very nice and clean. The bartender accepted my lousy tip of two dollars and brought me a drink. Meanwhile I stared at the TV, where another grim reporter was standing in front of what looked like the New York skyline.

"The situation is worsening," she said, ominously. "The outbreak is even more devastating than last time, where approximately 2 million people succumbed to the virus. The current death count is un–" she turned at a woman screaming and pointing at the city. The camera shifted to the tall blocks of buildings, and captured the dirty outline of the goliath. It was missing an arm, which testified to the military's potential, yet it was still smashing through tanks as though they were toys.

A glass slide to me. "Here you go," said the bartender dully, as though he couldn't believe all that drama on the TV. It certainly looked funny, now that I scrutinized at it, as though the footage was staged rather than live, as proclaimed in the corner of the program. While I clutched a shot of alcohol I would never get to drink, someone bumped into me.

"Hey–"

"Sorry!" said the offender immediately. I turned my head, annoyed, expecting a clumsy child too young to belong in a bar, but somehow found someone familiar.

"Bob?"

"Oh hey, Anna." Again he scratched his head, although this time nervously. "Crazy meeting you here. I was just chatting with my friend," he gestured to the dark-shirted man, "about you!"

"You were talking behind my back?"

"Oh no!" he exclaimed, horrified that I had gotten the wrong impression. "Nothing like that! I was just remembering how nice you were and gave your peanuts to me."

"I'm allergic," I shrugged. An easy lie.

"That's horrible!" He threw his hands in the air. "I can't live without peanuts! If I don't get my daily dose of peanut butter and jelly, I think I'll go crazy!" The dark-shirted man snickered at him and gave him a pat on the back.

"Been there, done that," I whispered.

"Huh? Sorry I couldn't hear you."

I waved him away. "Nothing to worry about. I was just talking to myself." I gave them both a look over. Bob seemed to have magically grown in size. Maybe it was because of how cramped the airplane was. "Say, what are you two doing here?"

"Oh, uh, we're just passing by, actually," said the dark-shirted man lamely. He was fairly handsome.

"Well, in that case, I think I'd better go, too. I need to find my friend's address, which I seemed to have misplaced." I patted my pockets, which were, of course, empty, save for a wallet I snagged off of someone.

I stood, and once against shook hands with Bob, and the dark-shirted man, who didn't offer a name, though he called me by mine. When we separated, I felt a pang of jealousy. How easy was it for them to live a life of obliviousness.

ooo

"Infection rates in London has hit a dangerous 0.4%. International disease controls are attempting to combat the deformed creatures created by the virus, to little success. However, despite the strange mutations, the geological spread of the virus is slow, but steady. Infection is expected to reach middle Europe by the end of the year.

"In other news, United Nations is working on a cure for the deadly virus. Bloodtox, a powerful biological weapon, has been legalized for military uses in seventeen countries."

ooo

The streets as I stepped outside were heavy with the omen of death and ruin. The oppressing clouds above only added to the dark mood. People strode with their heads bowed and breaths hushed, masks on their faces and hoods over their heads. Cars threw up from the roads clouds of dusts, which settled again to create a world of ash.

I chose a random direction to walk, for I had no map, nor memories of the city. Ignoring the crowds which I bumped into, I scanned the high city and the trash bottoms. Everything about the streets were dirty: the people, the garbage which held tightly onto the concrete like sand dollars on a beach, the carcinogenic smoke thrown by the cigarettes, the tearing smell of the slums. Here aesthetics were few and far in between, only a bright yet pitiful daisy within the piles of dung. Here the mood was grim, and the spirit of the city dead in its sleep.

Finally, realizing I would get nowhere by strolling around, I turned sharply into a back alley. The stench hit me like a solid wave, until I was forced to close my olfactory pores.

A man was flipping through a large bin, presumably for trash, as when I neared the chemicals in the air turned outright nasty. He looked up at my arrival, confusion, then fear, in his eyes.

"What do you want?"

I frowned, stepping forward until he began to back away. With a hand up as though to keep me at bay, there was something childish about his movements.

"Stay away! I don't have money!"

"I don't need money."

And then he tried to run. Foolish man. Reshaping my body structure, I was able to spare enough mass to elongate my entire right arm into a trench of twisted tentacles, which latched onto the back of his shoe until he planted his face into the ground.

"Help–!"

My shoulder erupted forward in another appendage. It circled around the man's neck and squeezed, cutting off his air and his breath. His eyes bulged. It was fascinating to watch.

His memories came only in pieces, the rest lost somewhere along the way. Still, I was not deterred. A general map of the city had drawn itself in my head, the approximate location of the downtown area, the busiest streets, the best restaurants. I also inherited a shivering fear in the man's final moments, which I squished and buried it where it would not bother me.

I stood in the alleyway, licking the last memories off of my fingers.

"Hey." The voice was familiar.

I found Bob, and once again his buddy the dark-shirted man. They stood in the mouth of the alley, looking in. From the darkness inside their faces were shadowed.

"Hi," I replied, cautious. This would only be bloodless in an extreme coincidence. That case was dwindling as the dark-shirted man took a step forward, his shadowy face grinning.

"Fancy seeing you here. Whatcha up to?" I didn't reply, and that only encourage the dark-shirted man to take another step forward.

In the dim light I must have looked pathetic, a painfully thin body wrapped like a once-white hoodie. I was slightly hunching over, as that was the form my human was most used to, but the garbage man was rather disgusting, and contained within him chemicals of a distasteful origin. I was still currently doing a cleanup of my systems, which had forced me to crunch up my abdomen regions in discomfort.

"Patrick," said Bob, warningly. The dark-shirted man didn't listen, his eyes now gleaming. Bob was looking behind him, where a small couple had stopped and stared into the alley in curiosity and shock.

I didn't move, and he chose that as a sign to advance more. "Come here, girl."

I didn't like his tone, so I stared angrily at him. He seemed amused by that.

"What, you mad? Scared? You know, I like women who can stand up for themselves."

I had nothing to say to his character, and felt nothing for him, not anger, not pity, nor disgust. When his hands reached greedily for me, I latched myself to him.

"Hey! What–?!" And I poured stomach acid onto him, only for the sake of the fun. His reaction was hilarious, from first surprise to confusion to horror to pain and back again. He tried to pull away, but already parts of me glued myself to him, suckers with teeth chewed through skin and drained away blood. When he turned white, sharp harpoons pierced his skin and melted him down to the basic chemical makeup, which were absorbed into me.

In the span of five seconds, Bob's face paled, as did the couple's outside. He tried to make a run, but a coil that snaked along the ground grabbed his foot. When he tripped, he was dragged in, into the deeper and darker alley, where I retreated into. Someone screamed, though it sure wasn't Bob, who was hyperventilating.

"Please, no! No! I didn't mean it! No please! It was all Patrick's idea! Please! I beg you!" It had indeed been Patrick's idea, but no matter the original thought, he did nothing to stop it, though he had wisely restrained himself from the repulsive actions of his friend. "Please," he cried, "I didn't want to follow you!" And so I was merciful, killing him with quickly, by tearing his nervous systems from his neck. After he was blind and numb and deaf, a dead man, I digested him slowly, letting no information loose through the net. He tasted funny, like an allergic man who had eaten too many peanuts.

When I looked again, the couple was gone, but their terror had been enough to savor upon. From the sirens in the distance, the police were on their way. With no intention of meeting them, I climbed up, claws digging into the brick. Now I heard the new voices screaming in my head. I saw the tide of insanity, called forth upon by the noise. Falling into it would not accomplish my mission, so I didn't, instead shutting away the voices to their prisons buried deep in nowhere. The tide receded again.

High in the air and out of sight's reach, the city here was no different from New York, with the exception that there was no ocean in the distance, just a city on a vast land of desert and forest. From fires rose the gloom far away.

It became more difficult to traverse via rooftops as more and more helicopters appeared, forcing me to hide by the walls and fingertips. In the end I dropped to the ground and continued my way on foot. I had considered taking a car, but from the looks of the traffic, it might be easier and quicker to walk.

I saw several patrolling soldiers. They marched haughtily past me. I strode haughtily past them.

Quite suddenly the flow of people dwindled to almost nothing. The streets were empty as no cars dared to venture this area, nor most pedestrians. A few quickly shuffled one from place to the next, not looking up. A cool breeze blew up torn pieces of newspaper and plastic bags in a torrent of garbage. The air smelled of death.

This was the land of the infected. I could feel them here, somewhere just in the periphery of my mind. They were wary of the new prey, which so confidently walked through their territory, though few were afraid. The less intelligent consisted of more garbles than any tangible thought. They were being shot down by automatic weapons.

"Hey, you!" A soldier was striding towards me, an arm out to shoo me as though a wild animal. "This is a no civilian zone!" His squad were already scanning the surrounding areas. "Get out of here!"

I didn't move.

There were only six of them, pitiful. Should anything bigger than a brawler attack them, they were meat. However, they were definitely well trained, from the way they not only checked corners, but also rooftops and a manhole in the ground.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" He was close now, and his teammates were beginning to take an interest. Another wondered closer, a gun unconsciously pointing in my direction. When the soldier's arm tried to grab my own, I attacked.

The first man died with a hole through his chest, the second severed in half. There were no screams, only the splattering of flesh and bone against a hardened biomass. The other four were turning, as though in thick syrup. I leaped high into the air. "What was that?!" They opened fire, though they were too slow. I landed heavily amidst them, cracking the asphalt with the power of a god. They were so soft that the impact knocked them off of their feet. A stray bullet hit my shoulder. More annoyed than pained, I extended out myself, grabbing onto all four of them at once and heaved. I acquired four more souls.

The base was not far. I could reach it fairly quickly. The only obstacle that stood between me and it was the downtown, which loomed high in the air. I took off at a sprint, the peaceful debris whipped away by my passing.

ooo

The downtown was hell on earth.

Masses of the mindless wondered from one place to the next, looking for meals to fuel their dead bodies. After brutally jamming one's head in its own torso, I was forced to take to higher ground to actually make progress. Large bulbs of red stuck to buildings, crimson webs extending from their surfaces, pulling a network of virus in the upper layers. At a few points the viral mass was so big it towered from the ground to the rooftops in one humongous piece. Fires burned in glee, to throw up more smoke and obscure the vision to less than three hundred feet at the rooftops. Tanks rolled below, escorted by marine squads. Explosives fired into the zombies, shredding their useless bodies to chunks of flesh which stuck themselves to any surface they came into contact with. No one had the time to notice me, not when bigger threats lurked just around the corner, quite literally. I swung around a building and came face to face with a brawler, which roared at me, and I quickly took off by leaping to an opposite building. However, it didn't attack, only joining its pack to taking apart more military. It was a strange realization.

The virus does not attack itself for blood or fun. The only internal conflicts it has are purely political or religious, as with my case against the archbishop, or the archbishop against the creator. However, in a land with plenty of fresh prey and loud machines, the brawlers held no hostility against me, in turn nor me them. I suppose that was why I had swung through the entire downtown without so much as a scratch, even while I met some of the most dangerous specimen.

On the intersection of a highway I saw an enormous creature swiping away at a legion of armor with too many appendages. It would be almost like a goliath, however it was simply too big. I almost feared from where all that mass had come from, but you don't have to worry about it; there weren't enough people in the city. Its sheer size was overwhelming, easily as tall as a skyscraper, and fat, too, though not full of fat. It was just big, bigger than it had any right to be. A tentacle the size of the Mississippi swung down and smashed flat the entire chunk of the highway, and another wildly danced and brought down an entire building. I made a mile-long detour around the situation, which I'm sure the military had under wraps.

Just past the monster I ran face to face with a brute. Towering a solid ten feet over me, it regarded me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. I got out of its way before it decided it wanted to try a piece of me. I glanced back to see it pounding away at a squad with a pair of blades in unnatural speed and strength. Each blow dented metal, each stride too fast for eye to follow.

High above me were birds that glowed from their wings and were the size of rhinos. They swarmed in flocks, maintaining an aerial battle against the helicopters. The skies were a swirl of orange and bright flashes.

Yet despite all the horrors of the mutations brought upon by the virus, there was beauty in the hell, from the tall masses that rose hundreds of feet into the air, from the maws of the creatures that easily pounced from building to building, their sharp claws digging into the stone and their roars a battle cry. I saw a strange art in the terrible hive, in the way the machines exploded, in the way that blood spilled. Beyond this haven was the true hell. I dropped to the ground, the impact blowing away cars. In front of me was the iron gates of the base, its size in itself almost a city.

Behind me the virus tensed. Ahead guns whirled.

**A/N**

I noticed that my progress is slowing down, and since I was at a good stopping point, I'm posting this chapter prematurely and putting the rest of the chapter into the next chapter.

Thank you for your reviews, **ZeroAccpetion** and **Sano Hibini**. To the rest of you anonymous readers, I would like some feedback as to how I'm doing (post sooner? make chapters longer/shorter?) and what you would like to see in the future. Again, I emphasize that the story is a bare skeleton right now. As long as the suggestion is not outrageous (completely changing the story), I can probably implement it somewhere in the story.

I've given y'all a small teaser of what the true face of the infected look like (hint: it's NOTHING like the games). Goliaths are no longer the biggest things around and Prototypes are no longer the most powerful infected. But if you think this is brutal, wait until you see what Alex Mercer turns into.


	8. Disorientation

_I had once asked a friend: "If you know your orders are wrong, would you still follow them?"_

_He thought about it for a moment before answering: "No." Why? "Because," he answered, "when the world is in disappearing, all you can do is hold onto yourself. No matter what others tell you, they are not you, and for all they are, their judgment may be wrong."_

_I suppose that is why I broke my promise to him._

ooo

Standing at the roof of an apartment building, I let my gaze run over the compound, and all of its machinery, its arsenal, its defense, its manpower. It was as impressive as the metropolitan of the city itself, however more organized and ordered than the viral masses that served as structures. Towering walls marked off the boundary between the infected city and the base inside, lined with gunmen and turrets of all sorts.

Approaching infected were immediately blasted into scrapes on the ground, whether it be zombies or brawlers or even juggernauts. No matter their speed or size, when they step within range of those nasty rocket turrets, they were just more pieces of flesh that clung to surrounding buildings. Fortunately for me, however, was that the only viral detector at the front entrance had been smashed, by what appeared to be a flying car. The wreckage still smoked. A tank was pulling away the twisted metal.

I saw enough. There was no brute force through those iron gates; they would only mow me down. I stood up, but did not drop down, instead walking away until I looked down to see the opposite side of the building. Here far below a squad of six walked in stiff strides in three rows of two.

Like a spider I descended upon them, quietly along the walls. They were oblivious to death hanging just above their heads. _Left, right, left, right_. The streets were empty as ever, few signs of any infected creatures or otherwise. Today was one of those quiet days. _Left, right, left, right._ There was a roar from far away, but that didn't matter. Even if it was a goliath the beast would be dead soon, from the sounds of bombs being dropped. _Left, right, left, right_.

_Splat!_

"Hey! What was that?" The team leader whirled around, gun raised, as did the rest of the squad. They formed a crescent shape, blue visors glaring into the smoke. The silence stretched, with nobody daring to breath. The flashlight barely managed to penetrate the rising dust.

Finally, after a tense twenty seconds, nothing appeared, nothing moved, nothing came to bite their heads off. The team leader relaxed again, but still his shoulders were tense, as with his movements. "March!"

For another two hours they marched, step by step, but the strange sounds left them all just a bit cynical. _Left, right, left, right_. There were no anomalies to appear around the base, save for a group of zombies that somehow managed to get around the tank patrols. They were gunned down mercilessly and their bodies moved to avoid the spreading of the virus in the decontaminated area. The rest of the shift went quietly. _Left, right, left, right._

They returned to the base soon after, by marching, along with five other squads, through the iron gate, which shut with a loud boom behind them. Of course they weren't worried. They were so used to it. In their little groups of six they filed into the residential hall, which contained beds, showers, lockers, desks, spare computers, and all the other essential needs of a soldier. Adam, a new recruit, suddenly spoke up as they settled down.

"I have some errands to run." There were a couple of snickers, though no one stopped him. He left the quarters and headed towards the main area of the compound. He found a janitor, who was mopping away at a brown mush on the floor. The janitor did not look up as he approached, only stepping out of the way of the approaching soldier. There was no one else around. Adam had other ideas.

"Hey! What is this?!" The custodian's feet lifted off of the ground as the hand around his neck tightened. He opened his mouth, and found no words. In front of him was what had once been a soldier of the military, but vines of red emerged from the eye sockets and the mouth were of razor teeth.

Then I was in the middle of a hallway, a mop in my hand, wearing a janitor's uniform. The mess in front of me waited patiently. Looking down both ends of the white corridor, I lay the mop against the wall and quickly tiptoed away, hoping there were no security cameras, nor officers who would wonder about the sludge that still existed.

From the janitor's memories I knew the general layout of the entire compound, including the cafeteria, the residential quarters (where I was), the holding cells, the generals' quarters, arsenal, hanger, and training grounds. Suddenly I had too many choices, and there wasn't enough time to follow my heart's desires before Adam was discovered missing and the entire base went into lockdown. However, there was time to follow my curiosity as it led me to the arsenal, which was strangely located underground. Along the way I was forced to consume another soldier for he had looked at me funny.

At last, without any more complications, I stood outside of a large, metal vault door. A green sign on the ground proclaimed it the arsenal. A keypad was on the side, yet there was no password. Perhaps they would only lock it in case of an emergency? But that didn't matter. I soundlessly opened the door and slipped inside.

It was dark, but I was not deterred. By diluting my pupils until the whole eye turned black and subtly changing the lenses, I effectively had night vision, though I still struggled to read the signs posted for directions. "In- … -fan- … -try … armory…" I managed to make out. I didn't want to go that way yet, because something else caught my attention. "Bio- … -tech … weapons..." That certainly sounded interesting, though oddly it drew up a shiver. I assured myself that I was not afraid of anything the military had in store, and with more confidence, marched towards where the arrow led.

Through another metal door, there were tanks, as in big, big, colorless metal cylinders that stood, enclosed by one another. There were sorts of control panels on each one. The machines were off, though still I felt a sinister intent about them. _Bloodtox Valves. Warning! Extremely Toxic! Handle with care!_ Just the word itself chilled me. They numbered so many that it was a wonder the military didn't just spray one tank into the city. It would probably kill off all of the virus. I looked up; the top of the tanks were hidden in the shadows far above, only adding to the intense size of these tanks. The exact size of the room was a mystery to me, but as far as I could tell, it stretched far, far away, where light didn't reach. There must be hundreds of thousands of gallons of bloodtox in this place. I wanted like laugh like a maniac.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

Then I heard them. They were coming close, so close.

_Shuffle, shuffle_.

I must leave soon, or else risk painful death.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

The first flashlight that came around the corner almost blinded me. Luckily I was able to open up another visual organ before the other two wore away. Then a shout: "I found it!" Then the shuffling disappeared and turned into a clutter of footsteps. I could not be found.

The man stood just inside of the bloodtox chamber, distracting himself by giving a quick glance outside of the room. I leaped high in the split second and attached myself to the ceiling. There were whimpers from below. Now the man was panicking; he had lost his sight! Frantically he scanned the flashlight back and forth along the ground, looking for movements in the gloom. Of course, I simply crawled high above him, where I was invisible. When he was directly below me, I dropped.

He didn't have time to scream as I squished him into a fountain of gore. Immediately the viable masses were absorbed, leaving a only splatter of blood. I didn't have time to savor my victory as I saw more flashlights rounding around the corner. "Bravo team has visual," said a monotonous voice.

"Fire at will," came the earpieces. My eyes widened at the impending situation.

I didn't wait for them to take the first shot, dashing quickly towards the group of men. Bullets thumped into me, though they hardly slowed me down. The bloodtox burn aftereffect was more of a problem. I was feeling sluggish and pained.

"Keep shooting."

I had been hit by no more than half a dozen bullets before I was on them, a pair of thin blades ripping through flesh and bone easily, all the while feeling the impact of more metal projectiles. The pain was really irritating now. Four out of eight men died.

"Gas man here."

Confused, I looked up. Standing in front of me, covered in plates of metal, was a large man, somewhat overweight too. On his back was a pair of strapped tanks, which were connected via pumps to a cannon in his hand. The technology looked something belonging to the Second World War era. By the time I had figured out what it was, he had already fired.

The bloodtox gas hit me like a hammer, blocking my sights, sounds and feelings. No more bullets popped into me, but the red stench itself was enough. It was as though I was bathing in a bath of acid, which constantly corroded away at me while I tried to reform my shape. The pain was almost unbearable, pushing at my barrier of sanity. My fake skin was shredded, leaving the viral mass visible below, a pulse of red and black.

"Hit it!"

Then came the net: a heavy, 200 lb net that pinned me at around a hundred miles per hour. Suddenly I couldn't even writhe away, forced to endure the full blast of the bloodtox. Each time I tried to form eyes, they burned away. Each time I tried to pull away the net, my hands melted.

The gas changed. Something else was added to the corrosive mixture. I felt heavy, so heavy that I would soon melt into a puddle on the floor. It was a strange feeling, as though I was sleepy. This thought I had not experienced in the past months. Along the time the bloodtox seemed to have stopped, but the fog of death had not left, still pouring its stale breath onto me. At some point my senses must have reformed, and I heard voices and saw blurs of shadows. They made no sense.

"Took the whole tank," spoke one in horror, though with a underlying tone of impress.

"Keep your mouth shut and keep feeding it the sedative. We don't want it to wake too soon," chastised another, a heavy voice.

Perhaps they were talking about me. Yes, that must be it, but I had no way to fight it. The blackness was here, and it wanted its due. I could not resist, for the blackness was all there was left. Finally, I slipped into its embrace, and the blurs and the shadows and their voices disappeared.

ooo

I had the strangest sense of déjà vu when I woke, to find myself in a brightly lit but empty room, under a harsh, white light, on a rigid, unyielding bed. Of course, I was not in discomfort, at least not physically. Just the sensation of being awaken in such an unfamiliar setting disorientated me. There was a glass panel that replaced one entire wall of the small chamber. A military man stood outside, glaring in. I felt the need to ignore him, but there was just something about him that kept me staring.

"Subject awake, showing no signs of infection," said a muted voice from away. Opposite from where the clear glass was a wall of reflective glass, one I wasn't supposed to see through, but perhaps they had mistaken the odd abilities of us that allowed us to be not quite normal, for I saw with almost clarity to the scientists who scribbled down messy writings on notepads. They glanced up every now and then to the man standing in the front of the room, who was announcing every move I made.

"Subject aware of possible observation; showing signs of intelligence." Maybe they thought I wouldn't hear them. It was almost true. I couldn't hear as I would from a normal person, but by shaping my auricular structure, I could pick up the murky sounds from the man's lips. "Subject's movements suggests predatory nature; capable of quick analysis of situation."

The officer held more interest than someone who told me exactly what I was doing every second of my existence in this room, more of a prison cell, now that I thought about it. It was extremely empty, except for the two walls of bullet-proof glass and the fluorescent light, protected by the same material. A tiny gate, about the size of a forearm, guarded the floor on one of the walls. The red light by its side proclaimed it locked.

He did not move, did not seem to breath, nor showed signs of emotions. Annoyed at his game, I stood up from the bed and surveyed the room again. There was no difference at a different height, except for I noticed the bed was in the exact middle of the room. It was screwed tight into the floor. Between the watching military man and the greedy scientists, I wanted to see if I could pull the only furniture from the ground, but decided a show of strength would serve no purpose. So I walked to where the officer stared, and stared back at him. He met my eyes with dull stares of his own. Arms cross with pursed lips, he was quite intimidating.

One second passed, two seconds. Then ten, twenty. I was a lot better at this game than he was, mostly because I don't need to blink, and had basic control over every little detail of myself. After thirty seconds, he began to sweat. After forty, he began blinking a lot. After a minute, his jaw clenched and breathing became uneven. After two minutes, he lost patience.

"Who are you?" It wasn't so much as a question as a means to get me to talk, yet I was genuinely surprised.

"Are you saying you don't know who I am?" I asked, mildly.

"Subject capable of human behavior and human speech," stated the muted scientist.

"Don't play games me with," growled the officer.

To which I replied, "Then I will ask you the same."

And the scientist got excited. "Subject shows higher level intelligence compared to other specimen." Other specimen? Never mind, that's for later.

"You're not the master here. I am." The officer was beginning to become slightly angry. I thought perhaps I enjoyed toying with him.

"My name is Annalisa Snow." I paused, listening to the sudden commotion behind me. They were really working themselves up finding me before my turn.

The officer's brown brows furrowed. He would look quite a nice man, with the exception that his mouth was in a hard line. His eyes glared with the lack of sleep and his muscles tensed under his camouflage shirt. I would break him soon.

"What are you?" Learning from mistakes.

"Good question." The scientists were most likely writing every instance of the conversation down, from the serious scratches of pen against paper. "One that I am not sure even if I knew the answer to. However, if you will kindly ask the creator, I am sure he can explain it better."

"Try." His glaring became more intense. Perhaps he had been aware of my tactic to distract him from the question.

"Very well. I am a vessel to the Blacklight virus. As for what kind of vessel, all I can give you is what we call a prototype. However, since all prototypes are different, I can't classify myself into a more specific category other than myself."

"Try," he stated again, more harshly. I was beginning to think that instead of a friendly visit, this was more of an interrogation. Looked like he wasn't going to be falling for diversions to the current subject.

"Fine." I was becoming annoyed. I could tell the scientists were excited at my show of emotions, no matter how lightly. "As a prototype, I came with all the pre-packages of being one, such as superhuman abilities and whatnot. But besides that, everyone is different, from an emotional standpoint, at least. Some I know are very sympathetic to you worms," I enjoyed the flicker of surprise to the venom in my words, "while others, like me, can't care less. I do not live through a day in which I do not brutally tear apart a human being. And I do enjoy taking my victims alive." Finally, there was the look of disgust I had been hoping for. "Yes, I like my victims alive, and screaming. Without screams, there won't be as much actions, huh?" He was now truly angry. Veins on his neck bulged. "And then I eat them, either by slurping out their insides like a slushy or by just straight up eating them. It's fun either way, and I honestly don't care as long as I get my good meal." Not true, but good enough to play with him with.

At this point the officer positively glowered at me, while the scientists behind were shocked into silence. I smiled, letting him see the wickedness in my eyes and the shadows of sharp and pointed teeth in the back of my throat. He frowned, as though he thought he was hallucinating, though he was called away before he could actually get a better look.

"Captain Vinson, General Gallegos would like to speak to you," said an enlisted from behind. My eyes flickered to the young man, who was hard keeping himself from moving too visibly. I saw his tenseness and fear as clear as day, though I felt no need to threaten him other than a very obvious sign that I was observing him. To his credit, he only barely glanced my way once.

Vinson nodded without looking at the man, who dismissed himself. We held a silent stare for another ten seconds, then I disengaged it.

"Captain Vinson," I dipped my head. I saw his jaw clutch and neck tense. I won.

"Ms. Snow," he managed to ground out. Then he turned and left without another word. I allowed myself a small smile.

There was a clear of a throat. "Subject is capable of twisting words for self purposes and–" He shut up when I whirled around and stared at him in the face. He saw nothing short of a devil's, the golden eyes, burning cheeks, monstrous teeth. Then the moment passed, and the helpless prisoner was back.

"At least make it quiet if you must record everything I do in this cell." Then I spat at him, the blue chemical dripping like goo, slicking down the glass. I took satisfaction in his expression while I knelt against the clear window and closed my eyes. I let my mind wonder, if only to see if it still could. I was surprised to discover later that galaxies of childhood still existed, however bloodied they were; but they still existed.

**A/N**

New character introduced: Captain Leo R. Vinson. This is one of the first military personnel you will be seeing. He will play an important role later (but I don't want to tell anything now because it will give away the potential plot).

Enjoying the story so far? Tell me! You don't need an account to leave a comment. I welcome all praises and criticisms.

So today my editor told me maybe I shouldn't have implemented the Titan (big thingy from last chapter) into the story, because the goliath is already enough and it made the infected overpowered against the military. What do you guys think? I need some opinions. And if I have to, I'll just let the possibility sit there and leave it out of the rest of the story.

To my faithful reviewers: thank you very much for your good suggestions and comments. I will follow them as my editor sees fit (he says I work too much).


	9. Deadlock Execution

I later learned that Vinson wasn't quite the man in charge of my imprisonment, but rather a stubby Officer Carl Alfred, his badge had proclaimed. He wasn't particularly tall, or big, like Vinson. He was not short, either, just at an average height. However, his tightly packed muscles look like he could take upon one of those brawlers all by himself. In fact, I was half afraid that his shirt would burst every time he crossed his arms at me.

He was a quiet man, this Alfred, but not susceptible to the games, and lost a lot more when playing it. When I told him if he ever saw me free I would eat him one nibble at a time, he practically stormed from the room. I think I preferred Vinson; at least the captain could stand his own.

The strangest thing about Alfred was perhaps that he didn't initiate any conversation unless he was talked to. And by that I mean he would stand with a stupid stare until I specifically ask him a question. Otherwise, he might not even respond to that, either.

I remember the first interaction I had with him that marked him out as peculiar. It was the second day, maybe? Time lost its meaning in a place of artificial lighting and glass walls. "I am hungry," I had said, looking at him curiously. Of course I couldn't specifically feel the need known as hunger, but I did know I would need some biomass soon. He stared me down for several seconds, and then just grunted, as thought my request meant nothing to him. I thought I was a bit angry, then having to force human emotions down because they served no purpose other than a good excitement from watching scientists.

I knew someone had heard my comment, because soon after a tray of what looked like black sludge was fed through the tiny little guard at the bottom of the wall. It was immediately locked after that, so I had no way of getting out. But rather than to focus on the missed opportunity, I turned my attention to the sludge. It was quite gooey, like jelly, and slippery, like butter. I honestly thought for a moment that they mistreated prisoners to feed them garbage like this. In addition, I heard the whispers of the watching eyes. This was no more than an experiment, to see how I fed. I was disgusted at their methods, but I could not restrain myself from pulling away a small amount of the sludge on my finger. It looked like death, and smelled like death. I closed a fist over it and let it seep into my skin.

I was surprised. It was meat, dead meat, but meat nonetheless. And, not only that, it was infected meat, probably taken from a dead walker. The dormant virus inside gave me an enormous boost, but I didn't let it show, appearing to still be examining a nonexistent piece of sludge in my hand. Now that I had an idea of what it was, I knew that it would be in my favor to devour the rest of it, and let as little of my true nature show as possible. I grabbed the tray and put it on the unused bed, and with my back to them, effectively blocking out most of their view, I let my hands run through the sludge, each contact absorbing the flesh into me, until I felt like I was alive again. Finally I sat again on the ground, the tray beside me, and stared back at the people watching.

ooo

"You have a visitor," announced a man in a dull voice, looking stupidly into the cell. He had no rank, at least from his sleeve. I nodded without looking at him. I had had only one visitor in the entire stay, so I knew who I was expecting. I waited, sitting cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed, my back to the transparent glass.

There was a door opening and closing behind me, then footsteps which stopped just short. "Hello again, Ms. Snow." I stood and turned. Captain Vinson looked still quite the same as every time, though growing more weary, as though living life itself was a toll to his soul. There were shadows under his eyes and darkness in his face. He had grown thinner, along with a small buzz on his chin. He no longer stood so proud, just tired, like a mountain in a storm. Though that did not stop the carefully crafted marble of an expression.

"Hello, Captain Vinson."

"Edward, shut off all recordings. And close the blinds while you're at it, eh? And mute the room." he said, over my shoulder. I assume Edward was the lead scientist in watching me. What a meaningless job. Then he looked at me again, with more strength than before. I only cocked my head to the side, waiting. "I want to know something."

"You always want to know something, every time something different. If you must point out the obvious, then you are wasting your own time, because I have all day to sit and talk."

He was taken back for a moment, as though surprised I was capable of words. I suppose I couldn't blame him, as I mostly listened and rarely talked, as emphasized by "Edward." But then he recovered, his face once again dropping to neutral. "Very well, then we will get past the pointless pleasantries. What I want to know this time is something else, not the usual crap I am ordered to extract from you to help recreate our own virus." I was too taken back, though said nothing. At least he was being honest. "I want to know about the society of the virus created beings, like you."

"Thinking about joining us, Captain?" I wasn't sneering, only deadpanned. "Thought not. After I answer your question, I have one of my own." He considered it, then nodded. "Good. Ok, so first of all, you have to clarify your question. It's just too general."

"There has been … conflict; I guess it's the best way to put it, conflict between the various infected. And I, along with my superiors, are curious. If we can understand why this is happening, perhaps we can use it to our advantage and save the rest of earth."

"Ahh…"

"Ah what? Ah, you can answer it? Or ah, you have no idea what I'm talk about?" he demanded, though not harshly.

"It's ah, I can answer it." He seemed to breath a silent sigh of relief. I found him slightly amusing, so showered him with a bare smile. "The reason for conflict is this: like humans, the viral beings are a species themselves, and like humans, every species has internal conflict." His mouth formed an O. "So here's a simple way to look at it: there are three factions in the infected world. First is all the zombies, or walkers, as we call them, because they walk around and attack everything in sight, including humans and possibly other infected. Second is the beasts. You know, those giant things that whack down helicopters and stuff." His lips tightened, but he nodded. "Ok, great. Now third, you have the evolved." He stilled. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. "The evolved are on their own side, and they look very much like humans, like you or me, and they have powers, powers to form blades out of their hands or jump higher than buildings. Among them are more powerful versions: prototypes. Prototypes are evolved with more strength, endurance, speed, powers, and are capable of shifting their appearance to be anyone else. So needless to say, the last group is the most dangerous of the three. If you saw conflict, then I would probably guess it's between the beasts and the evolved."

After my brief lecture, he only stood there, thinking. Scratching his chin, rolling his eyes, deep thinking. "Well," he finally concluded, "that was a lot to take in. Before, we were so sure that the whole virus is hell bent on destroying us, so we fired at anything that moved. But now, at least we can prioritize our targets."

I had nothing to say, and said nothing. Seeing that, he asked again. "Which side are you on?"

"That was a very direct question."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Now if we keep stating the obvious, then aren't we just pointlessly wasting our time?"

"Touché." I smiled despite myself. "I am nobody's side but my own. So in a way, you can say there are five factions in this war: three infected, you, me."

"Huh" was all he said as he nodded and began putting me at loneliness again. I watched him intensely. He seemed to feel my gaze, and as when his hand almost touched the keypad that would open the door, he looked back. "Didn't you have a question?"

"Not anymore."

Then he was gone. I suddenly felt like I was no longer in control of the game. Nobody was, for he, too, was caught in its stream, blown away by the force of war.

ooo

My next meeting with Captain Vinson was even more unusual, and unusual as in unusual for the unusual meetings in such unusual circumstances. It might have been a day since the last, all the while Officer Alfred glared down at me. I idly stared back, not once blinking. I think he was a little unnerved after an hour, and promptly excused himself from his duties for a cup of coffee.

I remember that the first sign of strangeness about it was there was no one to announce the presence of a visitor, which had became a sort of tradition. I remember how the door silently opened to reveal a worn Captain Vinson. I remember the tired man standing there, quiet and still, not the captain, nor a warrior. He fixed on me with a deathly stare.

"Captain, do come in," I gestured, ignoring the fact that he quite looked like a zombie himself. Not only was his hair uncombed, the buzz grew more, giving him a rugged look. The uniform was not ironed, nor the collar straight.

He came in with a grunt, the door automatically closing behind him. Once again he raised his voice to some unknown behind me: "Edward, close the room!" Then we just waited. Five, ten, fifteen. At thirty he spoke suddenly. "I need you to tell me something: are you my friend?" The question caught me off-guard.

"Well, in the past week I've known you, I don't think we're close enough to–"

"Let me rephrase the question: are you OUR friend?" Putting a heavy emphasis on "our."

I narrowed my eyes. He watched. This was a dangerous game he played at, one that I was not sure I wished to so eagerly participate in. Yet I understood his gambit. So I gave him a calculated answer, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"That doesn't answer the question."

I said nothing. Again, we stared. Five, ten, fifteen. At thirty he threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Never mind. That was a bad question anyways. How about this: are you our enemy?"

I looked to all the bullet holes they tried to put in me, all the pain and suffering I went through because of them. I saw my own grievances against them since the first day I woke to find something wrong. The virus only compounded to the images of blood, the dead bodies, the dead breaths. Yet somehow, under the string of death threats, my own answer surprised me. "No." He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, a long string of tightness escaping his body. I thought he might fall, but when all he did was stand there, I was again forced to break the silence, "Rough night?"

He looked at me with dead man's eyes. He seemed to want to laugh, yet couldn't. "Yeah, you could say that," he said, with a mixture of mirth and death.

The silence we sporadically lapsed into ticked with tension. If only someone was to break through that door now with guns blazing, or even the entire building shake with the roar of a goliath. But nothing happened, and the silence stretched, and stretched, until we all suffocated in its embrace.

"How bad is the situation outside?"

This time he didn't even bother to answer, just staring at the ground, shaking his head. When he did look up again, his eyes were haunted. "Tell me something." I waited. "What would you do if you are trapped in a sea of screaming souls, each wanting to take a bite out of you or the person next to you? What would you do if you there are men under your command who aren't even human, just those nasty pricks waiting to slice someone's throat in their sleep?"

I thought for a moment, but found nothing to say. He seemed to understand, and only shook his head again. But when he turned to go, I stopped him before he could leave. "I want to spread the word of an Annalisa Snow being imprisoned in whatever facility this. Discreetly. No need for anyone to know you're the one spreading it."

He looked at me in surprise, then like I was crazy. Perhaps I was, because I was risking myself for nothing but a potential benefit to them, them who had captured me and caged me, them who had attacked me and harmed me. I thought he might refuse, and I would have to argue. The only problem was, I wasn't sure if I could argue for my execution. But then he only mumbled something about agreement, and slipped onto his way again.

Alfred came by later and found me lying on the ground, eyes closed.

ooo

During the day, I was being constantly watched for possible new developments to an array of strange chemicals they pumped into my room, or the series of oddities that came in through a metal tray. So far, the biggest lead they had gotten was that I had a nasty sense of humor, when I pretended to be unconscious, then jumped up in the face of a guard who came to tap the glass, who scrambled back in terror. They were not amused.

During the night was when things got quiet. No one watched me but surveillance cameras and their unblinking red lights. Sometimes I would pretend they were robots, and act the part myself, by walking around straight-legged and wobbling. Other times the light above me turned off, leaving the entire visual in darkness. That was true punishment, the solitary confinement, without warmth, with comfort, without a guiding hand.

They came during the night, quicker than I had predicted.

That night the light was just another shadow in the ceiling, and darkness enveloped everything. Even the lights of the cameras were off. Perhaps they decided recording me was a waste of electricity.

I heard the tiniest sound of a key fitting into a lock, then a door swinging open. I had expected them to wait at least until the night guards went to sleep and the day troops woke up, for maximum confusion in case of emergency, but it seemed like they were short of planning. In the observation room, three silhouettes moved in silent unison. They took their spots close to the one-way glass. Two of them were pressing buttons while the third one watched me.

Of course, I made sure they couldn't see me move. I was sitting with my back against the wall, eyes closed in a feigned sleep. The walls around me were strangely colored, though nothing to be noted in such a dark light.

"What's taking so long?"

"I don't have clearance."

"What? You couldn't have said this earlier?"

"Let me try. I have more rank than you."

There was another moment of silence as the three got the work, then a hiss of air escaping and some mechanical gear working.

"Ok, we're good. Now we just have to wait."

They spoke in hushed whispers, though I heard them as though they were whispering to my ears.

"The archbishop will reward us greatly if we kill her."

The tinted glass slid away, opening my room to the observation room, which was just as dark as everywhere else. Empty rows of seat were unnaturally still, a single podium in front holding its breath. The three shadows were standing behind a counter of sorts, one with some lights for buttons. One of them flipped over and began a guarded walk to me.

I saw only a heavy hood and a camouflage jacket, and a large blade fused into the arm of the wielder as it was raised over my tiny form. The other two had grown bolder, creeping closer and closer. The three of them, infiltrators in the military, loyal to the enemy.

"For the Order," the armed one whispered. The blade came down. The jaws snapped shut, and the walls exploded.

**A/N**

I really hate posting chapters prematurely, because it throws my whole plan off and then I have to go back and renumber everything. But since I haven't been posting a lot, and I know that I personally like chapters to be of moderate length, I'll separate this chapter into two.

Happy Early Thanksgiving, people! I will be taking a short vacation break next week, but will continue to work on the story as much as time allows.

To **Sano Hibiki_,_**my faithful reviewer: I enjoy putting plot-twists into my stories. You will be seeing more of them later. And yes, do expect major wars between the military and the infected. However, note that since Anna is speaking about the past, you should assume things settle down eventually.

To **Evolution**: The original Bloodtox only damages infected tissue barely and instead causes extreme pain, which is why Alex Mercer is able to develop an immunity against it. However, the new Bloodtox not only does that, but also eats away at biological substances, like an acid, which makes immunity impossible. This is also the reason why humans is susceptible to poison by Bloodtox.


	10. The Mask that Bleeds

Even on normal days the Hivemind was a place of chaos. Too many minds tried to speak at once, too many thoughts were jumbled to overwhelm a normal person's head. They pounded at the door of insanity until its surface was dented and scratched, blackened and scorched, yet while it remained firmly shut, the door of death claimed already many. There was no such easy escape.

At times the Hivemind would grow very, very loud, and very, very demanding. Usually it only happened when the Order was spotted somewhere. When one mind cries out about the sighting, many, many others followed and soon not just the mental vibrations but also the physical location would immediately be swarmed by an army of infected. Within time the Order was on the defense, fighting only to escape before more appeared to devour them. But rarely it was not the agents of the Order which set off the uproar. When the voice known only as the Creator spoke, all quieted. When it issued an order, all obeyed, obeying with an eagerness that each felt to express by their volume in the Hivemind. It made a terrible mess, the voices.

But now it's quiet. So quiet. Places where the old residents roared to their hearts' content remains blank, a void. The massive link is empty, connected only to a few minds now. Occasionally there are tiny little voices that echoed in the vast barrenness, but they are hardly ever heard, and mostly ignored.

ooo

From the wall behind me peeled away a large web of vines. Suddenly the bladed man forgot to hack down. While he swung his blade at the web in a panic, missing as it dodged, I quickly jabbed a sharp spike into his leg. It entered without resistance and, with a mental command, ejected a load of deadly poison.

Poison hardly ever effects infected tissue, as the virus can isolate the poisoned area and ensure the safety of the majority of the body. And it can accomplish this so quickly that the poison does not leak farther than half an inch away from the point of entry. However, acidic poison, on the other hand, not only eats away at the isolation membrane, but also poisons the surrounding tissue, causing extreme pain. Several individuals have mastered the art of secreting acidic poison to temporarily subdue an opponent. An alternative, one that is ten times more effective, is acidic neurotoxin. Instead of burns, it numbs the surrounding area, and then victim will be paralyzed for a short time.

The first evolved collapsed, with his leg spasming out under him. The second evolved reacted quick, but not quick enough to prevent a line from piercing his throat. However, he did manage to fall backwards, and therefore pulling me forwards unexpectedly. The third took the chance to attack me with another blade, chipping away at my sides. Ignoring the pain, I injected my last resort of toxin, and watched in satisfaction as the second evolved slumped to the ground like a body bag.

However, that didn't stop the third man, as he chopped at me again. Awkwardly, I managed to armor myself, which stopped the sword just an inch into my skin. Only he didn't stop there. Instead of pulling the blade out to run me through, he pushed it forward, and like a saw, continued to cut through the armor. Mind already consumed by pain, I lashed out blindly, the extra appendages from my back swinging wildly and cutting through all they could reach. I punched to the general direction of the pain, and was rewarded by a grunt, though not lessened sting.

With a violent jerk, I ripped the whip from the neck of the second evolved, leaving a bloody fountain. He was not dead, but enough that he wouldn't be getting up soon.

I snapped the whip up just in time to deflect the second razor, which came for my head. With the heavy pressure, I was forced to angle my body such that the first blade ran through my side, leaving my left half untouched, but the right shredded. With my free hand I grabbed onto the sword and twisted. He gave a howl of pain, but didn't not let go, still whacking away at me with his other arm, which I had grabbed onto and was bending it away from its natural position.

There was a stir behind me. The first man had managed to overcome to destructive poison. He stood wobbly and stared at me murderously. Out of desperation to avoid fighting two at once, I threw the man I was grappling with against the clear glass wall. He gave a cry of surprise as he tumbled away, the glass not even cracking under his heavy weight. His blade leaving my side torn out a large chunk, a gaping hole, where snakes of biomass were already reclaiming the natural position. The man landed into a writhe of tentacles.

I whacked at the first man, ready to quickly eliminate the weakest threat. He raised both arms to block, but was ultimately unsuccessful, not with his still frail right leg, nor with the quarter-ton weight I put into that arm. He flew away, hitting the concrete wall head first.

Without slowing, I let the arm swing around and over my head, in time to stop the hard approach of the third man. He dodged, so quickly, to the side that instead I only dented the ground. He was definitely not an evolved, not with his strength and speed. However, that didn't prepare him for an extra arm on my back, which poked into his eye with a sharp blade.

He howled once again in pain and danced away. I didn't let him. With the whip, I pierced his calf with an expert throw. He realized my intentions and tried to cut away the whip, but I was faster, pulling it back to me and tripping him. He fell. When I tried to press the advantage, I felt a prick on my shoulder. Both the first and second man had recovered to dice. I didn't give them too much time to think, diving at them headlong.

The first couldn't stop my large blade from running him through like a skewer. Only that I didn't stop there, my forward momentum pinning him to the opposite wall like a lance. He tried to hit me, but only received more pain as the blade in him expanded into a ring of spikes. While he was busy dying, the second man rushed at me. I ducked my head as his arm slamming into the concrete wall, shattering it. With my free hand I was able to grab him, hauling him over me and banging his head against where his arm was only moments ago. Meanwhile, a hungry snake that sprang out of my blade chewed contently away at the first man, who was still struggling. I stopped him by dropping him and pinning him to the ground, this time through his head. The second evolved was pushing himself out of the wall. I smashed his middle into mush with a heavy fist. They were both absorbed quickly.

It was as though feeding a starving man a feast after two weeks of painful hunger. Suddenly I felt strong again, powerful. I could crush mountains, demolish cities. I roared into the Hivemind, feeling the strength of my echo, and enjoying the wave of fear which swept through all others. There was nothing beneath my might, certainly not that pathetic prototype who was struggling to launch a counterattack. I saw him, so slow, even his dash, as though in water. I caught his extended blade with my hand, ignoring the deep cut in my flesh, and ripped his arm from his socket.

He screamed, so loudly that even the heavens heard him. He slashed at me with his other blade, which I ignored, even as it ripped into my shoulder. However, I felt no pain under his pitiful assault, instead pouncing on him.

His forward charge was turned right around as suddenly he found himself falling backwards. While his back cracked the floor, I was on him immediately, snarling, claws digging. He grunted painfully, the blade stabbing holes into me, the hand punching me away. We fought in our own blood and guts, for the fresh taste of the kill. But I felt him tiring. He had lost too much mass already, not enough energy left to counter my increasingly ferocious stabs of claws. Tendrils from me stuck themselves to the floor, the ceiling, the walls, anchoring us to this very spot. We were in our own hell now, apart from the outside world.

I saw his fear in his too human eyes, as he saw the monster behind mine. Through the reflection in his orbs, there was the creature from my mind, brought to life through the virus. Its terrible gaze saw the world through death. Its hunger was unquenchable, only delayed by more and more blood.

"Don't move!" someone yelled. Perhaps it was a soldier who had heard the disturbance, but I could not really care now. Neither of us obey the order, still shredding the other. I scored a long, five slashes to his face, while his blade pierced my chest to come out the other side.

"You can't–!"

"Shut it, Gunners! I'll finish this!"

Footsteps hurried to our spot, though neither of us spared it a glance. I had caught the blade in one claw and was forcing it back to its owner, while the other claw ripped away at the meat in the shoulder. The prototype retaliated by bashing my claw away with his hand and a following stab which cut halfway through my neck. The pain blossomed. I faltered.

"Snow!"

I looked up. Vinson stood so close, just outside the cage of tendrils which I had built around me. In his hand was a pistol, which he aimed at the bloodbath. I was almost touched at his expression of worry. For a second, just a second, the world froze. I was trapped, the cage of humanity! This was the last choice, the last chance for redemption. Was I willing to throw it away? Then there was more pain, and the choice was made. The prototype punched me in the chest. If I had not been attached, I would have flown away by the force. Instead, my entire frame rocked. The walls shuddered. He punched me again. I was losing control.

Suddenly there was a gun shot. The prototype's head sprayed blood. He roared in my face. Another shot rang, and the right shoulder exploded. Another shot, another hole appeared in his neck. I felt his desperation. He saw my victory. In one final attempt, he slashed at my face.

Immediately I was blinded, from sight and smell as my entire face was shredded by the serrated blade. It only lasted for a second before I saw sight again, through the monster's quick thinking to see not through eyes, but sense, as the prototype slashed again at my face, further reducing it into a mush of flesh. I saw the horror on Vinson's face, the paleness of the other man, who held in his hands a smoking gun. There were several others, all masked, their weapons pointed towards us. He cut me again and hit me in the head. I grew angry.

Instead of repairing the damaged features, I absorbed the mass into myself. There was a hole in my hole, now a nest of sharp teeth. Legs of spiders ringed the periphery. The prototype's eyes opened in horror. He again tried to run me through, but my claws jabbed into his arm, piercing the muscles and pinioning it into the floor. There was one final moment of struggle, then I brought my entire face onto his, as though for a kiss. His final scream was muffled in the sound of flesh tearing.

ooo

I sat on a new bed.

Around me was a new cell. It was the same place as before, but now the construction was bolted in with steel. Sensors had been added to both glass walls, designed to raise alarm should either experience heavy pressure. There was no tinted glass for people to look at me through. Perhaps they realized just an observation room was in itself a security risk. I was not bothered. I was no nearer than before to freedom, even if my destination was more set.

In front of me was a tired man, hunched over in a chair. He was the same one beside Vinson in that night the room had been destroyed. He was my first visitor, too, in this new place, and my second ever. I let him sit in peaceful silence for a while before I broke it. I sensed another needing company and felt the need to conclude this one quickly.

"Gunners, I presume?"

His brows shot up in surprise. Perhaps he thought I wasn't capable of human speech. I wouldn't have blamed him after what his first hand witness was. "Yes, Lieutenant Steve Gunners. And you are the Ms. Snow that caused the uproar last night?"

I nodded. "I remember those grace shots were fired by you?"

He tried to smile, but failed when his cheeks tightened. "Yes."

"How did you know not to shoot me?"

His eyes looked dead when he tried to remember, a hand unconsciously to rub his chin. "I remember even though there was this bloody hell in the middle of the room, Captain Vinson bravely went in." At my questioning look, he explained, "You need to see the thing from the outside to truly know how bad it looked. I mean there were tentacles everywhere, and from my experiences each one can kill a man. But still the captain just approached the mess, and when he called your name, you looked up, so I knew there was something about you that didn't warrant a bullet to the head as much as the other thing." He shrugged, and then smiled. "Call it instinct, but I trust my instincts."

I nodded. When he still stared at the ground, I took it as a moment to survey him, like a predator. He looked normal, alright, but something about him was off. Perhaps it was because his uniform didn't quite match up with everyone else's. But then again he might belong to a special operations branch, which would also explain his frequency of introspective moments and constant grim look.

There was a knock on the door, then it opening to reveal Captain Vinson. He looked even worse than the day before, if that was possible. It looked like he aged a decade in a day, his uniform still crumpled. Shadows marred his stone face, fatigue weighed down his shoulders. He stood in the open door like an omen of death, just waiting. Gunners seemed to understand, and excused himself, slipping out carefully. Finally, with the room empty, Vinson came in, the door locking behind him.

"Long night, huh?"

He grunted. With visible effort, he seated himself exactly where Gunners was a moment ago, except somehow he was fuller, and more tired.

"You know, I'd been expecting you. I thought you might want to talk to me after what happened."

He didn't respond. I didn't feel the need to continue the conversation down this particular path, either, and so let him decide.

"Did you know those men?" Such a predictable question, but in a good way. It meant he had a healthy and untainted morale conscious.

"No."

"But you knew about them?" he pressed. I sensed an urgency of sorts that he had never had before. Something about the possibility of traitors in the army set him off.

"I guessed."

"But you knew about them, because you wanted me to spread you existence within the facility to all the personnel, and within eight hours you were attacked." He looked to me for confirmation, but I only gave a blank look to him. "Why did they attack you?"

I tried not to sound exasperated. Sometimes humans were so foolish they could not see what was in front of them. "I was not born into this prison, captain. You should have at least guessed I was somewhere before we've met, and that I have made many enemies, especially with this four-way war going down."

"And I presume these three were a part of your 'enemies?'"

"No need to assume so much, but yes, they were."

He looked amused for a second. "And which of the five factions would they be a part of?"

"Four."

"Excuse me?"

"Four factions."

Now he was confused. "I thought you said there were five."

I shook my head. "No. There are only four."

"Alright," he conceded, though I could still see lingering doubt on his face, but he let the matter pass. "But you haven't answered my question: who were they?"

I kept my face passive. "They belonged to an organization known as the Order of Evolution, and their mission is to turn all humans to their Order, which I find, one, stupid, two, unviable."

"Oh?" I definitely gave something for him to chew on. "And what is their problem with you?"

I shrugged again. "I refused to join their Order."

"That doesn't explain it."

Good catch. He was getting better at this. "They killed a close friend of mine for defying their leader, and now I want to kill every single one of them, as do every single one of them want to kill me."

He stilled at this. I didn't know whether it was something in my voice that set him off, or that he found something in my words to be horrifying. Finally he managed to choke out, "Show me who you are."

I stared blankly at him.

"Show me! I know this is not you. I've seen what you are capable of."

I was rather taken back by the abrupt change in topic. "I'm afraid I can't do that, captain."

He opened his mouth and closed it, opened and closed, like a fish. He wanted to say something, but couldn't. I waited patiently, sitting with my hands folded in my lap, like a lady.

"Good bye, Anna," he said suddenly, at last, after thirty seconds.

"Good bye, captain." I kept my voice neutral.

He did not seem to notice I did not return his closeness, and departed, very much like a ghost. I had the strangest feeling that he was being eaten alive from the inside, by his responsibility and his fear, for his people, for himself. I couldn't help but wistful think about what if we were closer. Perhaps in another world, but this one belonged to the monster and the captain.

**A/N**

I have to admit I was surprised by my own writing speed. Granted, this chapter has already been started before the previous chapter was posted, but still I managed to write over 1.5k words in as short as 1 hour!


	11. The Loyalists

_ There are many of us, many, many of us, that if you see one of us, there are many of us. We are everywhere, the eyes that lurk just behind the curtain of darkness. We see all, all that you can see, and more. We hear all, the whispers you think that go unnoticed. We are legion, the mob, the horde, the masses. We breath the same air as you, tread the same earth as you, but you will never see us, because we are always watching, waiting. We are the harbinger of chaos, grown from the ashes of your weaknesses._

– Anonymous

ooo

"Vinson, is this the project you were trying to tell me about?"

"No, ma'am. That is the Bloodtox one, down in the labs. The results proved to be–"

"This a strange creature, is she not? Why is she locked up?"

"She may look harmless, ma'am, but when she is free, she is capable of…"

I toned his voice out. They were talking about me, I could hear. There were four of them, Vinson, two guards, and a woman. The woman was a higher rank, a major, from the big, golden insignia on her arm. From behind a wall of makeup, she surveyed me from head to toe with a critical eye. There was something about her haughty stance and pretentious tone that made me want to kill her. But that wasn't quite possible yet, so I waited, lying in the bed that was more of an operating table, eyes closed, feigning sleep. I could tell Vinson didn't fall for it at all, watching me with a shrewd eye, while the woman was oblivious, going as far as to put her nose on the glass to get a closer look.

"Quite the sleeping beauty, huh? Where'd you find her?"

"Infiltrating the arsenal base in Houston, ma'am."

They talked some more, about the circumstances which led up to my discovery and whatnot. According to Vinson, they had detected me the moment they received notice that someone was accessing the arsenal using the identification of a janitor. Now that I look back, it did seem in sorts rather stupid.

"So what about her?"

"Ma'am, I don't understand what–"

"Is she always asleep? Can she hear what I'm saying?"

Vinson hesitated, and the woman took the opportunity to rap her knuckles on the glass. The sound was a dull, quiet knock, as though the glass resisted any movements. When I didn't move, she wasn't satisfied, turning to Vinson again.

"I didn't realize the infected need sleep as much as we do. If that's the case, then we can simply find their nest and burn them all out!"

Vinson gave her a bemused look. While neither were looking my way, I promptly sat up without a sound, eyes still closed. "They don't sleep, ma'am. She has been awake the moment we stepped into the room, and is awake right now."

"I see. Then why–?"

The rest of her question was lost when she looked over to find me sitting, as though a ghost. She was not used to playing this game, and was easily lost. I saw her wearing her surprise on her face as plainly as she wore her uniform. Vinson, on the other hand, was stoic as ever, though he couldn't keep the little curve of the lip from his face as he beheld his confused commander.

"Well, hello there." The woman's voice was nails on chalkboard, distinctly unpleasant, with underlying menace. I opened my eyes. If only to catch her off guard, I had colored them black. Of course, they were useless to me, as they let too much light through to distinguish any details, but they served their purpose, as the woman was taken back.

I said nothing. She looked at Vinson.

"What, is she mute? Are infected capable of complex thoughts and languages?"

Vinson said nothing. "No," I replied. The woman's head comically swung back towards me again. It was as though Vinson and I played a game of tennis with her, hitting the ball back and forth, with her in the middle, unable to catch it.

She hesitated for just a moment, but managed somehow to go right along with the program. "Ok. My name is Major Gallegos," she said, with a bright smile on her face. She looked like the sun that soured milk, or burned away crops, not so much that grew trees or warmed our earth.

"My name is Annalisa Snow."

"So I've heard."

I found nothing to say to this, so said nothing. Instead I poured my obsidian eyes to hers. She only managed to hold the stare for a few seconds before looking around the cell again.

"Well, it's nice meeting you, Annalisa." She said my name with such affection that I might be fooled into thinking she was my mother. In response, I continued to stare at her. The moment stretched. She shifted uncomfortably.

One of the guards cleared his throat, if only to save her from the awkward moment, and Gallegos whirled around dramatically, as if she was on a fashion show. She was like a child's doll, so easy to predict, so easy to pose into the right position. She left hurriedly, away from those haunting eyes.

Then Vinson was the only one left. He too was watching his superior stomp away like a rabbit. Only until the door had firmly shut behind her did he turned around. I was still sitting, though my eyes had returned to normal. He wasn't to be fooled so easily.

"Quite the boss," I said, drily.

"You can bet your ass on it," he grumbled, rubbing his chin.

"You should request a transfer."

"Believe me, I've tried. But the general says in this time of war, I am more useful to him where I am right now than where I would be if I transferred."

I was amused. "Cursed rules."

"Damn right!" he spat, looking around in a drunken haze. He rest a hand against the glass wall.

I mirrored his touch. "Maybe if you quit complaining to the enemy, you can be more productive."

"Maybe if you weren't my enemy, I can be both complaining and doing productive work right now."

"Are you trying to say something?"

"No, I'm just mad that someone actually has the brains to tell me better."

I smiled a little at that. It was such a pretty moment, one that I decided was one of the highlights of my messed up life. In that time, there was no war or blood, just a grumpy man, a tired, grumpy man who was stuck under the thumb of a petty woman. If there was no glass wall, I might have…

Had what? There was nothing I could have done. He was someone different from me, someone who did not fit in with mine, nor me his. Perhaps that was the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. Though I did not claim to love him, there was something about his heart that was admirable. Despite what I thought we shared, or what he thought we shared, there was a mountain between us, the mountain stood on one side the vanguards of the human race, the other the monstrous beasts of the virus. Ancient trees toppled under the destructive rage, stones cracking under the enormous power.

Because I had chosen, chosen the other path. Because once I chose, there was no second-guessing myself. Because I could not switch now, the chains of madness. That was the price the virus asks, not the terrible pain or the angst of loss, nor even the bloodshed or the insanity, but the loneliness, the deep craving for a friend, or a lover, or even a lousy neighbor who forgets to clean up after the dog. Because a god cannot dwell with its subjects, just as a demon cannot hide within the lambs. He was my anchor to humanity, which was why he could not stay. I needed to shed this place, with its lonely memories, away, so that I could retake my place within the world, within the Hivemind.

I withdrew my hand, he his.

He then mumbled something about work and headed to the door, shoulders stooped, in frustration and fatigue.

"Goodbye, Leo," I said to his retreating back. He turned his head around, perhaps out of surprise, or concern. But something in my voice or my cracked face convinced him otherwise. His last view of me was again as I closed my eyes, my skin decaying and flaking away, lying down on the bolted bed, behind a screen of impenetrable chains.

ooo

**The author has requested that you take a break and think through your life here.**

ooo

_Boom_. The entire building shook.

It was a strange sound to hear in the night, or what I assumed to be the night. Without my own fan club, it was difficult to tell when everyone went to bed or otherwise. It must be the night, though, as the hallways were very quiet for the past hour. Perhaps the night guards in this empty prison were all asleep, thinking that I wouldn't be as stupid to try something, normally. They were certainly right, but these were certainly not normal circumstances.

Two pairs of hurried footsteps ran past my door, which remained firmly shut. I was also disappointed they didn't think me important enough to be watched. And then there was another shake, and I understood their concern. This wasn't just some terrorist with explosives attack; this was a full-scale viral attack. If I had to guess, I'd bet all my money on a goliath. Only those things were capable of swaying the earth.

They passed, and I was once again alone.

The lights flickered, the ground trembled. The walls whispered frantically, in horror and urgency. They wanted me to leave, to escape while I could, because something was coming, something big. I needed to leave while I still could! Dust fell from the ceiling, their forms dancing ghosts.

I walked to the glass and saw my own reflection, eyes wild, features shifting. My skin was breaking apart, erupting in tiny patches of red, then returning normal. The virus. It too wanted to leave, for it knew death was awaiting those who stayed. There was another earthquake, and a patch of the ceiling paint fell down.

Tentacles of red flake circled around my right hand, sharpening its end into a point, which gleamed under the harsh light. I drew it back, and with a ferocious scream, jabbed it into the clear glass.

Immediately an alarm sounded. I supposed it was to announce an attempt of escape on my part, but with the entire base shaking about in the middle of the night, one more ear-splitting scream would easily go unnoticed. The glass itself wasn't harmed so much, although the spike had pierced through a solid inch into the dense material. A web of cracks spread from where my hand landed, clinks of glass already falling to the floor. I drew my hand back again.

The earth shook again, and I found I was having trouble keeping my feet, so I anchored them to the floor, appendages digging into the ground and rooting me in place. I attack the glass again, and watched in satisfaction as the web expanded and the spike shoved deeper. Now the cracks were huge, large veins snaking from my head's height to the ground and the ceiling. They were deeply imbedded into the glass, too, as much as three inches wide. When I drew my hand back this time, I didn't even bother to keep its spiked shape, instead pouring heavy mass into it until it resembled more or less a biological hammer. With a yell, I smashed it into the glass.

The impact was deafening. Huge vibrations from the glass distorted the other side in a wave of force. The sudden flash of brightness forced me to shield myself. Then dust settled like snowflakes, and the room was turned into a blizzard. When I looked again, I saw that I had made progress on the glass, but also on the floor, walls, and ceiling. The cracks had stretched themselves beyond the clear panel, residing on the plaster now. Then another shocked rippled through the compound. Paint began to fall like hail. I eyed the ceiling nervously, at the solid stone that would certainly bury me alive.

The door opened with a beep. I took a step back.

At first I thought I was hallucinating, that someone would be stupid enough to step into my room when clearly there was an alarm going off about how I was smashing apart my prison, then I saw the dead soldier who was flung away, like a poor piece of discard, and the enormous blade that dissipated to be replaced by a hand.

An old man stepped in. He looked like to be someone's energetic grandfather, with a thin, gray beard and a wrinkled, yet lined with pleasantness, face. His eyes were tiny stars in the void of nothingness, which locked onto mine. As the soldier died in a bloody pulp away, he dramatically dusted off his winter jacket.

"Look here, dear. What are you doing in a place like this?"

I didn't reply, standing still as a doll behind the marred glass. He took in the damage slowly, then eyes asking a silent question. In response, I shrugged. He wasn't too fazed by my lack of reaction.

"So what's your name, dear?"

I thought about it. "Anna," I gave him. I could tell it meant nothing to him, because he was disappointed. Was he hoping for someone else?

"Well, Anna, guess what? We're going to get you out." He looked at the cracks again. "Of course, it looks like you're already half way out yourself." For a moment, he looked impressive. My pride swelled. However, he soon looked with puzzlement to the damage. "But by breaking the glass, you've also broken the controls to your prison. Perhaps you can open it by force?" He looked thoughtful.

I nodded. He smiled reassuredly, nodding for me to go on.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

He gave me an amused look. "And here I thought you're mute. But no worries. I'm loyal to one man and one man only. His name begins with an M and ends with an R." I thought about it. "And you aren't with the, you know, cult?" He sounded ominous.

I shook my head.

"Very well, then!" He was all too friendly again. "Let's get you out of here!"

I looked at the man with a curious eye. While he didn't seem to have malicious intents, he struck me as odd. There was a sort of bubbly charm around him that made him so friendly, yet I felt the underlying power, a strong current, barely covered by a thin patch of lotus flowers. I decided I trusted him.

"Now's the time," he clicked an invisible watch.

I examined the glass again. Yes, it was heavily damaged, with the center resembling something like undercooked eggs, but still the glass held strong, with the solid reinforcements attached to the walls. When I looked back to the old man, his face was not that excitement, but a worried thoughtfulness. He caught my stare, and forced a little smile onto his face.

"We don't have forever, you know?" he said, even as another boom rocked the world. More dust flaked down. I nodded.

I once again poured strength into my arms, feeling their powerfulness. Red dust coated me in a suit of flesh. When I smashed the glass, it caved in under my strength, the material deforming in the shape of my fist. The ceiling shook some more. I hit it again. Again it backed away, again the ceiling cracked. Third time's the charm, because this time the entire sheet of glass ripped away from the metal screws holding it, along with chunks of the supporting rocks. The large shape fell away, the old man barely managing to step aside in time. There was a rumbling above me. I looked up and found a solid ton of rock accelerating at my face. Without thinking, I extended a whip and smashed it aside. Good thing I wasn't crushed immediately, bad thing the impact of the rock against the wall sent more my way. I dived forward, escaping the ruins of the prison, now just a cave in, just rocks and dust, more dust.

"Good grief, girl. You didn't have to bring the whole base on your head to escape." The old man stood above me, his back to my feet, a large block in front of him. It took me a moment to realize it was a shield, and that debris the size of fists only bounced against it harmlessly, a small pile beginning to form at his feet. I had the energy to turn onto my back and mutter a small thanks.

Once he made sure no more stone was to fly, by carefully prodding the collapse with the shield, he straightened up. The sight of me lying on the ground made him smile. Somehow I felt silly, although I was a bit shocked to do otherwise. When I didn't get up immediately, he walked over and extended a hand. Such a strange position I was in. From a life of loneliness to dependent on a grandpa.

"Come on."

Suddenly the old man melted away, and what stood in his place was a demon, its eyes glowing red from under its white hood. The hand it extended to me was a large claw, coated with viral tissue, tips sharp as daggers. It smiled, from a mouth of wicked teeth that stretched too wide. The orbs of death bore into me. I knew what it asked for, yet couldn't bring myself.

"Mercer," I gritted, through my teeth. The demon cocked its head, in acknowledgement, but held its position. I was still offered the two choices, yet somehow, just somehow, I thought it knew it already won. I could only think of my shackled life, Vinson, Mercer, Peterson, all of them. It was one for another, but this time, I would not bow so easily. "This binds me to nothing," I hissed, angry at the manipulation. The dark smile only widened.

Then the old man was back, his expression in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." My voice was off. I realized how crazy I must have looked, lying on the ground, eyes lost in the distance.

I took the hand.

"Eric, I got her. We can go."

"Rogers, Tom. See you on the other side."

**A/N**

Horray! I think we're about half-way through now! Thank you all for bearing with me.

If anything about the story confuses you, be sure to comment or just PM me, because I feel like this chapter is really muddled, for the lack of a better word. I will get back to you as soon as I can. (Shouldn't be more than 2 days at most.)\

To **Sano Hibiki**:

(Original question, paraphrased: Can evolved and prototypes even eat dead flesh?)

Hmm, you bring up a good point. I had been thinking about that for a while, ever since I first played the original game. Yes, you can't consume corpses in the games. Yes, prototypes consume live people for their thoughts. But there's nothing that really prevents the consumption of dead people. They're just live people without a conscious, like zombies. As for decaying flesh, it really depends on how far the decomposition has undergone. If a corpse is still in the bloated stage (which I think that walker was), it's probably just like a fresh corpse with a side of bacteria and fungi.

_And Here's a Happy Thanksgiving to All of You out There!_


	12. Heroes of the Past

Part IV – Faces in the Dark

_"Doctor, get the samples ready. We are evacuating this base."_

_ "Ma'am?"_

_ "You heard me. Bring what you can. Leave the rest. We are destroying everything we can't take."_

_ "But ma'am, all this data! We can't just–!"_

_ "Bring the data if you wish, but hurry it up. When they find us, we won't be in for a treat."_

_ "Yes, ma'am. And do you want the weapons prepared?"_

_ "Activate them all. Those you can't activate kill. We can't have anything falling into their hands."_

Bullets poured from the sky in rain; rockets darted in swarms; cannons exploded in a blanket of fire.

"The beast is still heading west, despite the efforts of the military. However, it is showing signs of injury under the heavy bombardments."

It was a monstrous thing, with skin of black fire and volcanic rocks, as large as a skyscraper. It had too many limbs, eight of them, each the size of a battleship, crawling itself forward like a spider. It had no visible eyes, yet knew its path and its destination. It not only crawled forward, but dragged itself forward with its legs, a maw of darkness and teeth in the front that devoured anything it came into contact with. Tendrils lining what might have been its face snatched up objects at random, a tank, a large boulder, a tree. What it couldn't digest was spew out of a pore on its back, sending the massive chunks hundreds of yards into the air, forcing the helicopters and jets to swerve away.

The camera was on a helicopter, flying through the air, circling around the beast. A rock flew dangerously close.

"The creature is estimated to reach Las Vegas within thirty-six hours. Evacuation is not necessary at the moment," a reporter was saying, her disembodied voice trembling with excitement. Another barrage of bombs fell onto the monster, which did not even react to its skin being blown apart. Before it could repair the damage, a rocket artillery launched a fusillade of zipping darts, which attached themselves to the monster. Instead of exploding, however, they burrowed into the creature's inside. Finally, the creature let out a terrible howl, in pain and anger, spewing even more debris from its pore. The helicopter had to take a wild swing to dodge the flying wreckage.

"As you can see here, the military is making significant progress in killing the beast. It is expected to only reach the border of Arizona–"

The reporter was cut off as another monstrosity burst from the back of the spider. A snake's head, decorated in spikes and teeth, ripped into the air and snatched the wing of a passing bomber. The aircraft fell away, smoke pouring from its side. A tank turned its turret to fire, but the snake's jaw dropped like lightning and clenched the tank. The metal was instantly shredded, the scrape hulk tossed carelessly away.

"Situation under control!" someone yelled, off screen.

"Roger. Take squad–"

The screen was shattered by a end of a sharp whip, which slowly dragged itself back, along with pieces of broken glass.

"Mr. Morgan, are you alright?" came the voice from the door. I had learned to never say no to that question, not unless I wanted the maid to be pestering about me all day.

"Yes!" I yelled back, hoping I still sounded like Mr. Morgan. He was a nobody I snatched about three states away in Dallas, Texas, and used his credit card to check into a hotel. None of the hotel staff questioned me. After all, they had no reason to believe otherwise. Until now.

I wasn't sorry that I broke the lousy TV of an expensive hotel, even if they made everything overpriced for such a good facility. But I was regretful that now I would have to move. Mr. Morgan was dead.

"Ok! Let me know it you need anything!"

"Will do!"

I waited. The maid waited. After ten seconds, the maid must have decided there was nothing out of ordinary around, and hummed her way down the hall.

I slowly got up and walked to the window. As an afterthought, I shredded the curtains with claws. They seemed so nice that it was a shame to not destroy them. The window I didn't even bother to open, just lightly tapping the glass until it cracked, grimacing at every noise I made in case the maid was still outside. She wasn't. So I put a palm on the window, with then pushed. There was a loud, sharp shatter, and what remained of the window fell down, twelve floors, into a line of bushes. It was quite the fortune that the bushes were there, even if they looked ugly. Otherwise, people might just look up and wonder what the crazy woman was doing.

I climbed to the roof from there, painting myself a sickly white in an attempt to blend into the wall. It might have worked, or it might not have, judging from the little boy with a gaping mouth from below.

Las Vegas was a beautiful city in the night, especially seen from the top of Palazzo Hotel, the grand strip of light, the nightly people. There were more flashing lights than I could count, carpeting the entire city from the buildings to the streets in a bath of glowing specks. Cars crowded themselves in the wide streets; pedestrians ate and laughed and drank and strolled their way through the line of giant casinos. From here I saw the pyramid, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, a McDonalds sign, the globe. It was a wondrous sight, quite unforgettable.

I must have stayed a while, just watching. It was very calming, when I did nothing and just sat still. What a world.

"I assume you saw the news, which is why the hotel now has a broken TV and a manhunt?"

"A manhunt?" I turned to give the old man a curious glance. He looked amused, perhaps at my inactivity, or the cursing of the manager when he discovered Mr. Morgan was declared dead over a week ago.

Tom Summers, that was his name. If not his humor, then his sense of rightness definitely appealed to me. He was a Loyalist, the mysterious ones who still followed Mercer to the end of the world. I told him it was a sad destiny, but he said he owed Mercer everything, when the creator himself took upon the trouble to remake him into a soldier of the future on his dead bed. I did not disagree with him, rather shocked at Mercer's own sense of morale.

"Yeah. Now they're look all over the Vegas strip for a dead Mr. Morgan. You could have imagined how the military laughed their asses off when they heard."

I smiled a little, eyes on the distance. We once again settled into silence, comfortable, but empty.

"The others want to see you." That ruined the moment.

I knew it had been coming, yet I did not want to see them. Just because Mercer himself happened to be a practical man, and that Tom was a good person, didn't mean anything about the rest of them. Some could be just as twisted as Mercer's more slippery side, or like Mother, who I had not even seen in person yet, but heard enough that I decided she was a literal hazard to everything within a mile radius.

"Tell them I'll be leaving the city, as soon as I clear this place of the Order."

"They won't take no for an answer."

I said nothing. The stars were gone, hidden away by the light and the liveliness of the city. Even the moon was barely visible, just a shadow of itself.

"They wish to know the one who had captured even the creator's attention."

"Tell them I have no loyalty to Mercer or his plans."

"They'll think you a child."

"Then let them. I have better things to do than to play soldier with them."

He sighed, frustrated. "Why won't you just see what they have to say…"

Something prodded at my conscious in the Hivemind, just a little poke, a nudge in a direction. I looked back. Connected by a pasty, thin arm was a sharp hook, its one end gleaming wickedly in the red light. On the other end of the arm was a monstrous thing. It towered above me, at least ten feet in height. Its body was cut apart in places, bashed in at others. Red veins glowed from within its body, like fissures on the horrid skin. A lopsided mouth was a gaping hole in what should have been a head, instead resembling something more along the lines of a moldy sack of potatoes.

The building I sat on no longer glowed brightly, instead smoke poured out, like an overflowing fountain. It was now day. Fires roared in the city, burning it to the ground. There were no more people, just enormous structures of biomass towering into the sky. Deformed creatures leaped from roof to roof, hungry. They seemed to dance with the shadows around them. The sun was hidden by a blanket of red clouds.

I blinked.

"… After all," he was still saying, "they trusted you enough to send someone like me to bust you out of there, so–"

"There's something here in the city," I interrupted, scanning the horizon. There was an approaching dust storm, far away, that was nothing more than a curtain of darkness in the night. I wondered what Mercer planned to do.

"Something?" He gave a nervous laugh. "This is Las Vegas. Even if you don't know what you're looking for, you'll probably find it anyways."

"I'm serious."

Now he gave me a strange look. "You sure?"

I thought about the vision. "Yes," I decided.

He was suddenly serious, eyes narrowed at the streets far below. "This city is one of the only locations with next to no infection rates. People think it's the military keeping them safe, but we all know different." A helicopter zoomed past under us, hurriedly. "The creator has plans for this city, and it's not to blotch it into the ground." He looked to the dust storm, so far away, so gloomy. "The titan won't reach here alive. It's nothing more than a distraction, a testament to the power of the virus. But as for the creator's true intentions, well, let's just say that the only person who would ever understand the creator is Mother."

Just the word itself chilled me, but I bit my lip and nodded. Somehow I thought I saw explosions and a massive movement of a gargantuan creature in the shifting sands, but then it was gone. Perhaps I am crazy.

"I suggest you go look for whatever your something is quickly. Maybe it's a sign, however you got wind of it, whether it is just a feeling or not. You know, sometimes the creator can directly plant his own voice in our heads?" As if I didn't know better. He took a pause there, nodding to himself. Perhaps we were both crazy.

"But do remember that they still wish to meet you," he said, after a length, with an air of finality.

There was no doubt that I would forget, but I nodded and said thanks anyways. Below, the numerous people and the energy of the city beckoned me to join them, to, even for one moment, celebrate my livelihood, against all the odds. But, maybe I was just paranoid, but I felt eyes on my back, gauging into my soul with teeth of darkness.

With a frustrated sigh, that something was watching my every move, that I was looking for something that might not even exist in the first place, that Mercer had more plans and schemes and plans with schemes than there were stars in the night, I let myself drop over the edge.

ooo

I glided in the air, hovering at just above the sight of the people. I had grown a pair of thin but stable sheets along both arms, allowing for distant traveling without much use of energy. However, that left me looking rather like a oversized bird, and very hard to miss, especially from the ground, so I limit its usage to night only, and only on nights without stars.

It was one thing to look down onto the city from the Palazzo, the emperor of the world, but quite another to fly amongst the subjects, to be one with the city. My pass brought a cool breeze to those below, so heated by their own lives that they never though once to look up at the blackest night.

But I was not on a sightseeing tour. The nudge was there, just a thread. It led me forward, towards the center of the city itself. Ahead, towering structures raced into the sky, magnificent and beautiful. The string pulled me through their cracks, high above the ground. For the first time since New York, I felt alive, empowered. As I watched the cars like ants and people like grains, I felt freedom, freedom to be what I was, freedom to be what I should be.

"Target sighted."

_What?_

Suddenly the tug was gone, dissipating into the air, and something else replaced it. This one was very much physical, in the form of a spear that pierced my back. Along with projectile electricity lit me up like a firefly, the great arcs of light flashing for all to see. Half spasming, half blind from pain, I tumbled forward in the air, without direction, into a wall. The wall shattered into a rain of glass, and I found myself in an empty, industrial floor. The vast space only had the narrow columns to hold up the many floors above, and only the narrow columns for shadows to hide themselves.

Then darkness cleared. I found myself looking at an armed man, his face hidden behind a visor-less helmet. In one hand was a gun of some sorts. I narrowed my eyes at him while he took a defensive stance. There was a soft landing behind me. A second man, dressed very much like the first, rolled to a stop, held in his hand a thin string connected to his chest, the other end to the spear in my back. His finger hovered on a button.

I didn't give him the chance. Lunging forward at the first man, the second man was suddenly dragged off his feet with me. However, the plan went shorthanded, as the first man reacted with lightning speed and dodged. Flames erupted from his hand as he dived, burning me. I lashed out in blindness, destroying a column of stone.

"Tactic B," said a mechanical voice, just as I compressed the biomass in my chest and crushed the needle.

I watched the second man click the button on his hand, and his confusion when nothing happened. My enjoyment was limited when another wave of flames came at me, though I used to opportunity to drag the other to me and roast him in the flames instead.

"Ahh." His must have been really heavily armored, as he was only shocked, not so much as hurt. The flamethrower man tried once again, though he didn't watch the two addition whips to the blades in my hands. One of them caught his foot and he did a flip, smashing hard into the ground.

I ducked my head in time to let a blue-glowing projectile sail over my head, then turned towards the second man, and was forced to leap aside to avoid another shock grenade. Those things are particularly nasty. Once they come into contact with any surface, they explode in a sphere of shrapnel, each connected to a power cell by wires, and then electrocute anything within a three feet radius. The pain is only magnified as the shrapnel sometimes pierce skin and flesh to deliver the shock inside.

I elongated an arm and swiped at him almost ten yards away, but he activated something else and flew backwards. The jetpack carried him out of my range, and while I was distracted, a dart lodged itself in my neck. It beeped. Immediately I ejected it with a throw, and watched it explode. Another fireball came my way. I rolled away while it scorched the ground where I was.

"Formation delta."

From the second man's forearm burst out a whip, lit up with a blue glow, electricity crackling along its length. He took a swipe at me; I hid behind a concrete column. The weapon blasted away a chunk of the structure, sending it flying away. When he swung again, instead of dodging backwards like he clearly expected, I lunged forward, ducking underneath the whip's wild arc and tackled him. My own whip rammed into his midsection, sparking against the metal plates. The armor was strong. So I entangled the man in a nest of tentacles, armed with acids and teeth, to chew him through the iron coffin.

The first man came to the rescue with another explosive dart. I was ready, catching this one in one hand and throwing it back at him. His jetpack allowed extreme dexterity, letting him dodge the explosion with an easy leap. However, what he didn't see were the arms I sent out into the room, toothed snakes that had spikes for heads. It jabbed at his calf, which buckled under the unexpected attack, though still did not physically harm him. Annoyed, another circled his helmet, cutting off his visual. He fired the flamethrower blindly, spraying the air with burning heat. His jetpack opened up, but he was not let free, so tumbled, in a crazed wrestle against the swarm.

I felt a painful shock. Looking down, I saw the second man had lit up his suit in electricity, glowing with the blanket of tentacles. I growled in anger, and lifted him into the air. His struggled were futile when I smashed him back into the ground, then into the air, and back to the ground. I could tell he was dazed, though the pain kept on coming. In a fit of infuriation, I contracted the shell that held him. As my mass squeezed, so did his suit. When the pressure reached about what would have shriveled up a human like a raisin, the suit sparked. When the pressure was enough to vaporize rock, the suit began a wailing alarm. The inside must have been painful, as the controls on the forearm crackled and died, as the jetpack on his back imploded.

Another fireball shot at me. I simply let it hit. It was painful to endure and stand still, but it did let the first man think that I was incapacitated by the shocks. As he flew in at me, with an armor capable of lighting itself on fire, I absorbed the snakes back into me, so when the flaming man crashed into me with the force of a speeding truck, he hit stopped as if he hit a solid wall. I roared back, and received a mouth of flames for my troubles, which I bit down against. Seeing the hopeless situation, he pushed off my grabbing tentacle and darted away, too quick for me to catch. Through the broken window he was gone, racing far away.

Once again I looked down, and realized that in that intense moment, I had more or less crumbled the armor beneath me into a heap of scrape. The electricity must have stopped a long time ago. There was what might have been blood leaking out from several places. I had not planned to kill the man inside, instead absorb him and learn. Looked like that was done. Disgusted, I dropped the armor heavily onto the ground.

Something gleamed on its right arm while it tumbled under the harsh lights of the city. I scrutinized at the symbol. A winged star seemed to glare out, staring accursedly. It meant nothing to me. Perhaps one of those antiquated Loyalists might know. I was considering whether it was worth my trouble to take this hulk of armor with me, until I heard a tapping shoe from behind.

I whirled around, letting myself half melt into the darkness, fangs bared. I realized who I was threatening too late. He leaned casually against a pillar. At a normal glance, he might have been the new boss of the building, just coming out on a free Sunday to see his construction project, carefree in jeans and a jacket. The eyes gave him away. They were darkness itself, hidden from the world. He was looked at something on the ground behind me, perhaps the crushed metal man.

"Mercer," I said, deadpanned.

He seemed to smile under his hood, though it was hard to tell with the shadows around him. "Not happy to see me? You should know that people bow to my very presence and bless the ground I walk on." His voice was smooth, yet also nails on blackboard, like an angry cat.

"They are fools. Blind fools."

Now he smiled, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. It was a wicked expression, however normal it looked. "Are you not blind? You have too many mysteries, my dear." He turned his eyes to me. I felt as though the very night around us was picking me apart at the seams.

I hissed at him. He only continued, now standing free of the concrete column, dusting his sleeves nonchalantly. "You have had quite a fight with those two," he noted, once again looking behind me. "And it seems like you're the victor."

"What do you want?"

"Ah, so quick to be hostile." His smile grew larger while his eyes found me again. I suppressed a shiver. He walked towards me, calmly, until I was within arm's reach. "I was only curious whether you knew of their true origins."

He was good at this game. Very, very good. He knew which buttons to push to force me one way or the other. He knew what to say to evade my coldness. I was not amused, but suddenly too curious at his words. "I'll bite. Who were they?"

Luckily he didn't brag, though I felt the slippery feeling of defeat all the same. He stared at me in the eye. There was no life there, only death, only the black void. "Blackwatch."

"Blackwatch?" I repeated, foolishly, incredulous.

"Quite the parrot, aren't you?" he chuckled humorlessly to himself, "yes, they were indeed officially disbanded a long time ago, but do you really believe the several individuals would simply let that power go?" A terrible seed was planted in my head, the dread of the unknown. "They are mere legends and whispers now, but even you see they are not weak. Their specialists are easily capable of fighting evolved and infected creatures. Their spies control the military's every move."

"How?"

"Power," he said, simply. The seed blossomed.

It took me a moment, then I realized. Suddenly I felt thoughtless. "The answer is still no, Mercer. No matter all your manipulations, the answer will always be no."

He smiled again, sinister. I should be the one feeling victorious, yet somehow he had won once again. "I thought as much, dear, but you should never stop trying."

I said nothing in return.

He finally turned his awful sight from me and onto the city outside. He seemed to raise an eyebrow at the cracked windows, though did not point it out, to which I was relieved. I watched his confident steps as he carelessly strode to the open window with the howling winds. When he looked back, his eyes were still as empty, but now hungry, devouring. "One more thing: my followers are still waiting to see you."

And I was left with a strange feeling of fogginess.

**A/N**

I hope you've all had a great Thanksgiving, 'cause I know I've ruined mine with turkey. :P

So here comes another chapter that I was forced to split up because of the incredibly long time it took me to write this and the fact that there are quite some stuff going on here. It might feel a bit weird because my editor was once again unavailable and I did the editing myself...

To **Sano Hibiki**, who I recommend getting an account because I can't reply to your reviews:

(Chapter 10) Thank you! I thought I needed some more secretive weapons than the old, stereotypical blades and stuff. As for the infected hierarchy, there's a reason she's hanging around in the twilight zone. As for what she says, don't always believe everything she says. Heck, even though she does everything I say, I still don't trust what goes through her mind half the time.

(Chapter 11) That is one question I rather not reveal. P.S. idk, either. I just kinda thought of some stuff and put it into the story.


	13. From the Shadows

Subject Details:

Name: Ronald I. Peterson

Gender: M

Height: 5'9"

Status: Under surveillance

Living Relatives: None

Affiliations: Unknown

Threat Level: Guarded

General Description: Subject is usually seen wearing a white robe, sometimes decorated with golden ornaments. Subject is a part of Mercer's super-humans, however, does not show loyalty to Mercer or Mercer's viral creations. Currently under the watch of Major Gallegos.

Last Seen: New York, NY

ooo

I hated them, Tom, Mercer, all of them, for landing me in this diplomatic mess. Why couldn't have I not grabbed Mercer's attention and enjoy my vacation in that cell? It wasn't as though I was unhappy, or sad, or even trapped, for that matter. But as I stood in front of my stolen car, a modern gas station ahead, I couldn't feel just a bit amused. Such a stereotypical place for a secret meeting.

The door of the store chimed as I pushed my way through and gladly shed the umbrella. The downpour outside showed no signs of stopping, so I was reluctant to walk or even run across the city to my destination, stealing a car instead. The umbrella I took from an unaware pedestrian. He ran away with his life after I threatened to bisect him. It was quite nice, too, with ocean patterns, and very effective in keeping out the rain. I reluctantly left it by the door as I entered the store.

The cashier, a young man in his twenties, watched me discreetly with curiosity as he pretended to be reading a magazine. He looked normal. I detected nothing that suggested otherwise, from both his aura and actions.

Then, while I stared at a shelf of chips, he tapped a button on his desk. He thought I didn't see. I would give him the benefit of doubt, that the button was not to call the police to my current location.

"Anna," someone called, only a few seconds later, from the back of the store. I peered around the shelf, and found Tom, dressed in an old, grandpa suit. It oddly fit him. He walked to me and tugged me one way with my shoulder before I could decide to run away. "Come in! We have been waiting for you."

Once he thought I wasn't looking, he winked at the cashier, who nodded back.

The interior, after we had gone down a flight of stairs, was dark, and musty. It was déjà vu all over again, though I did not voice my opinions. The metal door we passed was easily an inch thick, attached a heavy lock that weighed no less than twenty pounds. The lighting was poor, the air dense and heavy. It felt more of a graveyard than a basement. Spider webs created cities within themselves, bugs scurrying blindly across the floor.

"Here we are."

We reached another metal door. Tom opened it graciously, despite the loud creaks, revealing a old light, rusted away and dirty, somewhere around fifty years old. It hung above a wooden table, a colony of mold. Two chairs were set up, though no one sat within them. All stood around, in a circle, arms crossed, leaning against the walls, as though to get away from this tiny room. I felt a bit crowded myself as the door shut behind me.

"Annalisa Snow," Tom proudly pronounced, an arm waving to introduce me. Out of the four people, there was only a slight stir, as though my name was a chilly wind that blew through them.

The man with the black top hat was a well-built man, with a healthy stance, a suit wrapped tightly around him. The man who was smoking a cigarette was disturbingly thin, his bones poking out in odd places, jagged and deformed. The woman in the thin dress picked at her fingernails, a slight frown in her face, facing slightly away from the top hat man as though in disaffection. The last man had no face, only a steel mask, which glared at the ground, seeing nothing.

"Hello," I said, my voice tiny, swallowed by the gravity of the room itself. It was as if we all stood on the edge of the world, ahead a deathly drop into the end, and none dared to move, all said was pulled down to be lost eternally.

I waited. They were terrible players, each shifting just in the slightest. But Tom was the first to give in, clearing his throat loudly. The top hat man responded first.

"Anthony Carson," he said, in a voice of clarity and wisdom. I remember his name in particular because he was the head of the other three, the main leader of the Loyalists. And he was a smart man, by no means stupid, or naïve. For every action of the Order, he managed to stay just one step ahead, always countering every move, always in anticipation of the next.

The other three had less impression on me. The woman was Baker. The masked man was Durant. The thin man was Will. They all regarded me with disinterest. The only two people who showed emotion was Tom, who looked so agitated every now and then, and Carson, who stared at me with downright distrust.

"So you're the newest star."

"So I am, but not your star."

And later, "What does Mercer see in you?"

"Beats me, but you can sure as hell ask him."

It wasn't completely his fault.

Durant was quiet, saying not one word. In fact, Baker introduced him, with him gone in spirit. Baker, on the other hand, was a lively person, despite her clear dissatisfaction with Carson. Will was too mostly quiet, though whenever he spoke, he was a snake, each word biting deep into the fear of humanity, each exclamation punctuated by a hiss. I found the three of them interesting.

However, the most interesting turned out to be Carson. With the white bow on the top hat, along a crimson rose pinned to his suit, he made quite the first impression. His face was locked in a permanent scowl, his eyes sharp when he looked at me, his lips thin. Every word he spoke was strained, forced. Every gesture was made as though he was chained to the earth, with effort and power. His dislike was not mutual.

It was later that when Tom explained to me the history of the three that I saw them with a new eye. Will was a patient who misjudged and was forcefully placed in a mental asylum. In a decade, his ordinary mind was as deranged and twisted as his environment. After Mercer decimated the entire asylum, he found Will, and recruited him as a soldier. Baker was a government agent who had found just a little too much about Blackwatch's own history, and was subsequently silenced. Luckily, she was soon found, with a bullet in her chest. After her resurrection, she vowed revenge upon those who tried to throw her away. I couldn't help but see her through a mirror. Durant was perhaps the most tragic of all. He was one of the survivors of the first outbreak, back in Manhattan. His face was chew off by a walker before he received medical attention. On the verge of death and becoming a walker, he was hanging onto his last shred of sanity when Carson came across his broken body. With powerful viral manipulations, Carson managed to turn the would-be walker into an evolved. Durant now followed Carson everywhere, like a dog to its savior.

Again, the most interesting was Carson. His story was completely unknown. However, I decided that from his speech he might have been a scientist or a doctor, but his subliminal fiddles suggested more of a hunter. His past greatly fascinated me, and I made no attempt to hide the curiosity. It is, unfortunately, a mystery lost in time.

"I'll be going," I said, curtly, refusing Tom's offer of corporation. I could tell it disappointed him, and I hated to disappoint such friendly people, but there was nothing else he could have expected. I made my point clear on multiple occasions, to him, to Mercer, to Carson, to the rest of the damned world.

Although, despite the strangeness and the oddity of the meeting, the most outstanding would be the final word. "Farewell." It came from Carson's tight lips, a ghost from the hidden shadows.

ooo

No one followed me as I made my way back into the store. The cashier gave me another curious look, and I gave him back a steady glare. He took the hint and hid behind his magazine. When I pulled open the door of the store, I discovered with frustration that someone had taken my umbrella. It was fortunate that the rain had stopped, or else I might have strangled the cashier to find the person who had taken it.

The gloomy day welcomed me as I strode outside. I left the car, as it would only cause more inconveniences than speed me along in the downtown area. So I opted to walk, until I reached the first building with more than five floors. Easily I scaled the building, scaring a cat sitting on the window ledge. From there I was able to leap, building to building, and a little gliding in between, slowly to my destination, where I had left the body of the Blackwatch man. Perhaps I should have moved him somewhere else, but I could find nowhere else to put a body.

A scuffle, the breaking of a leaf, the tumbling stones that fell far below. I never missed them, only chose to not notice them. I had even gone as far to slow down, so that they would not lose me. They were good, agile. They were not deterred by the occasional leap that carried me hundreds of feet into the air, or the intensive flight I was forced to make to not touch the ground.

When I neared my hidden place, I dropped to the streets. I was not ready to let anyone discover the corpse I fought hard to make, especially not from one of the three most thickheaded groups in the entire nation. The pursuer stayed above.

Now the prey was the hunter, the predator the hunted. As he leaped to another roof to better observe me, I ducked through a crowd of people and quickly lost myself. I saw his confused searched through the people, for a girl in a black hoodie, while I stood in plain sight as a leathered motorcyclist. Slowly I stalked the watcher while he ran in frantic circles. While he prepared for another jump, I was below him, ready to spring into the air and catch him unexpectedly. However, just then a man walked past me. He looked very familiar.

A flash. A man in black robes, a cross in his hands. Ghosts around, unremembered, lost. An angel, wingless, protector, giver, dead eyes. A warm smile on the face of the priest, a pyramid of glass and steel behind him. The Order of Evolution.

The city dampened, until surrounded by shadows were two of us.

I attacked first, but he had a quicker reaction, deflecting the axe with a shield and darting away. I tore away the earth and threw at him a chunk of the asphalt, which he dodged, barely, and unleashed a whip at me. I caught the whip, its edges digging into my hand, and furiously shook it. The shockwave made him stagger. The sharp end of the whip exploded into a flower, impaling me and then retracting. I stood there, gaping holes in my chest, him, with blooded marks on his face.

"You are brave to come here, Father Douglas. Foolishly brave. You will have your demise," I stated in an expressionless manner.

People around had stopped, either in fear, or curiosity, others long gone, their stumbling away. The watcher too had heard the commotion, now crouching on the roof, attentively. The world seemed to freeze, with only me and him, his hard breathing, my blades digging into the ground.

"They have taken away your innocence," he replied, dodging my accusing glare. "I could have helped you. I still can. I can save your future, for the–"

"There's nothing to save now." I waved dismissively away his words, unable to endure his dead lecture. "I will have your flesh and your holy soul."

He sensed the attack coming, and jumped away from the impact I made against the ground, shaking the earth. More people ran away, screaming. He looked at me, the snakes of bloodied teeth entrenching my form, then the streets, the horrified people around.

He ran.

I was stilled for a second, surprised. Then, with a snarl, I leaped into the air, wings of dragons, chased him, knocking stone loose from their foundations. I saw the shadow of the watcher running away.

He led me through the suburban area, while he raced on the ground, knocking up cars from their spots, while I glided, uprooting trees along the way, and sending light poles like javelins at his back. Far away I heard sirens, but I ignored them. As he sprinted, he launched cars and people at me. The cars I violently smashed aside, the people I simply let them hit me and be eaten.

At one point we reached an overpass. He leaped high into the air and landed with power onto the back of an 18-wheeler, causing it the flip backwards. I was forced to shed the wings in favor of claws to leap onto the trailer and then forwards again, carrying me onto the overpass. He continued running, faster than speeding cars, while I gave chase, half on the ground, half in air.

Through the city of Las Vegas we raced, followed by an entire legion of tanks, helicopters, explosives, machine guns. They could not to fire, as there were too many civilians around. However, after McGiffin took a sharp turn that obscured us from any aerial vision, the military soon lost us.

We arrived at a construction site, abandoned. There he stopped, and turned to face me. I did not dare to engaged him immediately, fearing some kind of trap. Instead I circled him as he stood in the middle of the mounts of concrete blocks and steel cylinders. It was eerily silent.

"You must see truth! I am doing everything for your benefit!" His voice echoed.

"Is that why three of your party attacked me without provocation a while ago?"

"They were not following orders. The archbishop has declared all adversaries of the Order are to be negotiated with."

"What's the negotiation? Glorious future if you join us, death otherwise?"

"No!" he yelled, angry now. I could tell he believed what he said, as far as he could believe himself. However, wrong devotion didn't make him innocent by any means. "You think us all monsters, but we're not. All we are trying to do is make the world a better place! So that there shall be peace on this planet! We will wipe away the Horsemen, and save humanity!"

"By brainwashing every single person on this planet, so that your 'archbishop' can sit at the thrones?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You are hopeless, aren't you? Well, if you must reject our teachings, then we have nothing else to say to you."

He took a step towards me, and I readied into a defensive stance. However, he didn't attack, only gesture. Then I felt myself on fire.

My middle blasted open as something detonated within it, from a grenade that hit my skin only a blink before. Bloodtox was abound, leaking from my abdomen, dripping onto the floor, corroding my skin. Behind me, another man held a launcher of some sort, its barrel still smoking. He readied the weapon again, but did not shoot, at a second gesture from McGiffin.

More of them emerged from around, vicious smiles on their lips, death within their eyes.

"Now you see why it's futile to resist us. This is your last chance. Join us, or die!"

My mouth was not working quite right. I felt the bloodtox, so much of it, so concentrated all within one hit. "I–, you can–"

I was saved from forming the rest of my sentence, when a bullet ripped clean into the wielder of the bloodtox weapon. His head exploded, and his body swayed. "What–?" McGiffin turned, as did all his men. A helicopter was in the air, guns trained onto the group of us on the ground. I vaguely made out the helmet of a pilot behind the windshield.

"You have ten seconds to drop your weapons and surrender," announced a mechanized voice, causing a flurry of scuffles in place.

McGiffin cursed to himself. "Kill them all!" he yelled, waving at the bunch of them.

The world exploded into action. An evolved leaped at the helicopter, and was shot down by a hail of bullets. Someone threw a large rock at it, chipping its side, making it retreat from the projectile-heavy storm. A tank roared through a pile of bricks, scattering them. Its cannon blew a hole out of the ground, which many dodged away from. Soldiers poured in behind the tank, guns alight, bullets a blizzard of fury. The evolved responded in kind. Soldiers fell to blades and flying metal and bricks. A second tank that rolled in skirted back one whole foot after a prototype rammed it with force.

Meanwhile McGiffin walked calmly over to me.

"Do you see what you have brought upon yourself? This massacre," he gestured to the fighting around, "is on your head! You are destroying the world!" He thought me helpless, but he didn't see the extra appendages slipping out of my wrists. "You are a hazard to this world," he said, sadly, as though he cared, "and I cannot allow that." His hand was in a large blade, raised over me. I tensed, ready for action, yet stilled.

_Bang!_

Something slammed into his head one way and burst out the other. He healed immediately, turned towards its source, and was shot again, this time half his face hanging by a threat. He growled. I shifted my head. Captain Vinson was dressed in all black, armored plating, a handgun in both hands, steadily advancing. McGiffin took a step, and another shot that opened his neck made him retreat a step. He growled. Vinson coolly took another shot.

At only five yards away, Vinson's gun clicked. McGiffin took the chance and swooped in. Vinson was not fazed, throwing his gun away and drawing a sword. At first I thought he lost his mind, but when the sword cut cleanly through a reaching tentacle, and left the flesh burning, I silently applauded the military's ingenuity. McGiffin looked like he swallowed a toad.

The victory in surprise was short-lived. McGiffin feinted, causing Vinson to block, then rushed in with speed. Vinson was quick enough to bring the weapon up and pierce the prototype's right leg, but the damage simply wasn't enough, not as the bloodtox burned away at the flesh. Now he was being held by the throat, feet off the ground.

"Useless human! You are nothing but a bug I will squish beneath my boot!" Vinson struggled, his feet dangling in the air uselessly. His face turned purple, his hands scratching at McGiffin futilely. "You will be sorry you–!"

A shot blasted apart his shoulder. He dropped Vinson, who scrambled away, clutching at his throat. Before he could turn around, another shot blew away the side of his face, while the third burned a hole into his chest. The bloodtox dripped like blood from the wounds, which hissed as the chemical burned the biomass.

I dropped the pistol and advanced upon the agony man, who had unleashed half a dozen blades and swiped the air between us. Before he could recover, I jumped in and drove a fist to his gut. He half flew up, then my blade cleaved into his shoulder. His own hand punched out blindly, piercing my gut to the other side. I snarled into his face while he grimaced in effort. So close to each other, it was hard to tell where one of us began, and where the other ended.

I used the opportunity of proximity to erupt into a pillar of spikes. He was caught by surprise, his body completely shredded before he could react. When he tried to pull away, I casted a row of harpoons into him holding us close. A blade was thrust through my neck, then expanding on the other side, holding me in a prison. I returned the favor by exploding the harpoons into little balls of shrapnel, which dug harshly into his insides. He yelled in pain, while I could not yell at all.

In one ditch effort, he punched at me with his other hand, which I caught and subsequently squished into a ball. Howling, he released my neck, and I retracted the harpoons, dancing away from his vicious strikes. He threw a whip, its razor edge lightning fast. However, he misjudged my abilities at a distance. I let the whip hit me and trapped it, then erupted. Snakes burst from my skin and crawled up the whip. He tried to tug it free, while I slowly tugged it in and melted it down. The pain of a losing tug of war turned his eyes red.

Before the snakes could reach him, he raised the sword and cut off his own hand. Surprised, the whip was instantly rushed into me, quickly absorbed, pushed me back a step. He swiped a mount and half a ton of bricks flew at me, which I dodged, and sent his own whip back his way. He could not react quick enough to evade it. It dug into his shoulders, then the spikes expanded, and I pulled with all my strength. He was lifted off his feet.

While on the ground, I diced my blade through the length of his back, opening it up like a loaf of bread. When he tried to roll over, I cut widthwise, putting large, angry marks in a lattice on him. He tried to form a shield, which I shattered with a heavy bash. He tried to stab back at me, only for me to sever his hand again. He tried to get up, but my hand formed a long pike, which pinning him to the ground. He squirmed like a bug, wiggling. When he saw me standing over him, he stopped the struggles, deathlike trace.

"It was always my destiny to fall in battle, but I had not realized it was a battle against the grey horse itself." He was breathing unevenly, while I watched with no words, letting his floodgates run. "If only I could see myself now when I was young." He sighed, as though content. He noticed me staring with curiosity. "What, does Death not understand death?" He laughed, a crazed, humorless laugh. "You may have ended me, but you have only began more chaos into this world. Or is that your goal all along, to destroy all that we know? But it matters not now. I cannot let you take me."

I prepared for more struggles, but he only shifted his skin, like an ocean wave. After a moment, blood, a red tide, emerged to his skin. Horrified, I realized what he had done. In desperation, I stabbed a sword into his head, where I hoped the destruction was the least. From there I took everything he knew, everything I could find and use. It was not much, only a few scrapes, undated and blurry. I stared at the pool of bloodtox and a empty shell for a second.

There was only anger, anger that I had been tricked. I grounded my teeth, shaking with fury. Away, I heard Vinson get up, slowly, carefully, watching. I ignored him, only stared at the dissolving corpse with hate. Oh, how foolish I was. I threw the remains away, shedding it from my lance, not even noticing that there was no more fight around. There was only me, me and this dead corpse.

ooo

"I didn't realize you were in Las Vegas."

"Oh? We were actually heading to D.C., but when a video of an electrocuting angel went viral, we decided to head here to check it out."

I remember the burn of the shock, and the spear that had pierced me. I remember the fire that scorched the earth, and the lightning that blew away all.

"I guess it didn't take too much guesswork to figure it out, then."

"Oh, you have no idea. Major Gallegos almost jumped and hit her head on the ceiling when we were told two infected were chasing each other across the city."

"Right." I hadn't been thinking too hard about collateral damage there, only concerned to catch the fleeing man before me. But in hindsight, it was his plan all along for me to catch him.

We were in silence for a while, just sitting, and watching the sunset far in the distance. To the east, the dust storm was gone, the only remnant a large dot in the sand. It was a beautiful scene, the flaming skies, the glowing light. On the streets, people rushed as ever, unaware of their possible death, lingering just around the corner, ready to leap from the shadows and consume all order.

"So what now?"

"Well, let's see. I've managed to convince the major that you are in fact not a threat to public safety. So basically you're not sitting beside our buddy Alex Mercer on the terrorist list anymore."

"That's good."

"Wait until you hear the better part. We have located the headquarters of this 'Order of Evolution.' Our forces will travel to New York within a day or two, with a stop in Washington, to end this war once and for all. Once they're gone, I imagine the rest of the infected will be a piece of cake."

I nodded absently to his plan, "Yeah, yeah." It wasn't as though it was thoughtless, rather that it wasn't guaranteed to work. Defeating Archbishop Peterson meant nothing to defeating Alex Mercer, or the Creator, as he had became to be known.

"So, what will you do now?"

The question took me by surprise. I had been expecting it, yet somehow when asked, I found nothing to say. Of course I already had the plan, to plan to break the Order's control in the States, then to cut off the head, subdue the snake.

"I have some cleanup I need to do here on the west coast. But, once I destroy the Order here, I will join you in New York."

He grinned. "It's a date then." I couldn't keep the smile off my face. He glanced down at his watch, then had a double take. "It seems like I am late for my report. Well, Madam Snow, it has been a pleasure being your company, but I am afraid I must go."

"Then farewell, Sir Vinson, for we shall meet again, sooner than we might expect."

He saluted, and I followed him.

The sun was brighter than ever, the shining orb, an omen, hanging with power in the sky. The clouds were a fortress of safety, shielding the heavens from our war. The build we sat on loomed tall in the sky. Giant golden letters at our feet spelled out "Palazzo Hotel." The fountains below sprayed water high into the air. The breeze that passed by occasionally was cool and fresh.

Vinson winked, then dropped down. I only watched him until his parachute sprang open, then I stayed a while longer. Life was a mess.

**A/N**

We are getting very close to the big showdown. If you have something you would like to see in it, now's the time. After I submit the next chapter, there will be no more room to fit in whatever else you suggest.


	14. Calm before the Storm

"This is about to be all over," said the man.

"It's not over until I say it is over," replied the woman, "it's not over until they extinct us from this world."

The man nodded. "I will end this soon, if she pulls through. If not, then we will keep looking. There are always more, but this one shows particular brightness. I have a feeling this is a good one."

The woman cocked her head. "Very well. But I will speak to her before we finish this. I need a location."

"You will find her in New York, where everything meets," said the man, drawing dust onto a stone table. "All will converge onto that point, sooner or later, from where it all started."

"I will meet you in New York, then. I expect Washington won't know what hit it."

ooo

Helicopters hovered around the skies, creating a network of detectors that homed in onto the biggest concentration of the virus. It was very effective, as they all converged upon my location. Through a small window I could glimpse at the aircrafts, like flies that buzzed around a corpse. The approaching tanks were ants, rolling heavily through the neighborhood blocks to the warehouse.

The thing purred. I had to exert even more pressure to keep it still.

Now shouts could be heard. I put my face against the window for a better view.

Outside, two tanks were parked, their heavy guns aimed at the warehouse. Soldiers darted left and right, hiding behind crates, hiding behind cars, hiding behind tanks. Aiming lasers dotted the walls, sometimes sweeping through the window in streams of blinding, red lights. The thing growled. I pushed it down.

The radio crackled away. "_Bravo team in position._" "_Charlie team in position._" "_Visual on targets?_" "_Negative. Too much pollution in the area._"

I snapped my fingers through the Hivemind.

Immediately a pothole on the road burst open, the metal plate sailing into the air. From below emerged walkers. The first one that emerged ran on all fours, and at once leaped at a soldier, sharp teeth gnawing through the armor. The following one, one with head peeling away like a flower, was shot down before it could unleash its tongue. A second pothole burst open, through which streamed more of them. A roar announced the arrival of two brawlers, which charged at the soldiers as they raced into sight from behind a house.

The pressure strengthened. The thing felt the bloodshed outside and wanted to join.

A brawler whacked a tank with its paw, shaking the entire vehicle, while a stream of bullets ripped its skin to shreds. The other was busy avalanching through people and walkers alike, cutting through flesh with ease with its iron claws. A helicopter lowered its altitude and fired a barrage of fireworks, which seemed to distract the brawlers long enough for soldiers and tanks to scramble clear of them, and then the sparks were followed by rockets, engulfing the earth in an ocean of flames.

When the smoke cleared, there was only a splatter of blood on the ground. Two remaining walkers were shot down mercilessly.

"_Situation clear_."

"_Roger. Rescanning for more infection._"

A wait and a new voice.

"_This is Major Gallegos. Alpha Team is to check the perimeter for signs of infected. Bravo stay here and check the warehouse. The rest of you clean the sewers in case more of them are still there._"

"_Will do._"

"_Yes, ma'am._"

I detonated my traps.

Two biological bombs, each as large as a car, were stuck in the sewers below. Their insides were filled with a toxic gas, laced with Blacklight, so that any person to come into contact with the released chemicals would die an instant death and be reanimated into a walker. Unfortunately, most of the soldiers were in fact not scathed in the battle, and therefore still had gas masks, and were therefore unaffected. However, the gas was enough to immediately send the few that had lost their masks or were injured at their squadmates, and chaos ensued in the sudden battle of confusion. When the berserk soldiers were shot down, the army in front of me had been reduced by half of what it started out with, and most were tired, eyes wide in fear and anticipation, guns shaking from stress.

In the disorder I thought I saw its commanding presence. Gallegos herself was there, beside the pilot on one of the helicopters. Perhaps I should give her more credit. A coward would not be here now, not after those two surprises. I was shocked when she returned my stare, though somewhat satisfied that her eyes too opened wide. While her scanning vision returned for a double take, I let the thing go.

Instantly Gallegos' eyes turned to the beast that smashed away the barn doors in its exit and shredded the front-most squad of soldiers. They did not stand a chance against the blurred form that raised its blades to sate each kill. The tanks' machine guns opened fire, but they could not track the thing as it easily danced around the targeting computer. The helicopter sprayed the ground with bullets, most missing. It threw a car up into the air, narrowly clipping a chopper.

I stopped watching there. A brute was more than enough to distract two tanks and a healthy air support until Gallegos would decide that the battle was too dangerous and they needed reinforcements to take down the thing. By then I would be long gone, as with Carson and his crew, long since disappeared from the city-wide sweep the military was conducting. It was a fool-proof plan. With Gallegos distracted in Las Vegas and not interfering in my own campaign, I could easily beat Vinson to the other side of the country. I blew a kiss to the soldiers fighting out there. No one saw it. Wasted.

ooo

The airport had hummed busily yesterday, people rushing away, people standing and chatting, people leisurely enjoying their food. Businessmen sat with their legs crossed, newspaper or magazine in hand. Children ran aboard, despite the efforts of the employees. The entire scene was painted a happy mood, oblivious to the national disaster.

I managed to pass through without killing a single person.

It was sunny then, the clear skies marked the city a special place. There were no clouds to dampen the glorious weather, no blood to soak the streets. I enjoyed the calmness, because in time there would be no more. It happened so soon.

It was cloudy today, as I stood on a building that overviewed a temporary military camp. A large, metal fence kept the pedestrians from wondering inside, guarded by a few armed men. Within the perimeter, there were more guards, and several squads going through basic drills.

"Left, left, left right left."

Outside, people barely checked their curiosities to not openly stare. Many peaked at the interesting change, but ignored it for the most part. With the exception of a few. In the past three hours I had been watched, four men had walked back and forth from one end of the block to the other at least a hundred times, just to look at the camp one more time. I was certain they were my targets, but provoking now would do nothing more than scare them off. So I waited.

Three minutes until noon.

Too many civilians were still around, perhaps going to or from lunch. It was too messy.

Two minutes until noon.

The skies were getting darker by the minute, from an only partly cloudy look to now a full gloom. It might rain soon.

One minute until noon.

The drills inside the camp had stopped, the soldiers wiping sweat from their backs with towels. The light at the end of the intersection turned red. The streets were empty now, walked upon only by a few daring souls who wished to cross in such dangerous places.

The attack on Washington, D.C. began exactly at noon, the moment the clock tower chimed twelve. All four men simultaneously leaped towards the metal fence, surprising the guards. I dropped down like an omen of death, blades raised. I had timed perfectly. The man I aimed for was in midair, unable to change directions as he was skewered and smashed into the asphalt. However, I could not stop the other three from shredding the fence and the pathetically few guards who were slaughtered on the spot. The man I tackled tried to get up, but I bashed in his face with a fist, then impaled him through a dozen spots. After that, he could do nothing but watch as I bled his life away and absorbed it for myself. The stars in his eyes slowly dimmed, then disappeared altogether.

A boom reminded me of the other three problems I was solving.

They had yet to notice a member of their team failed to make it across the street, now a bloodstain in a crater in the middle of the road. Two were too busy trying to take down an operating tank and preventing anyone else from accessing the still idle one while the last was having his skin being melted down by bloodtox. It was fortunate for him that he could consume nearby soldiers, unfortunate for him that I bashed in his head next.

The men at arms stared with open mouths.

The tank was too slow to crush the evolved, too fearful of collateral damage to fire its cannon and too cautious to send a someone to man the machine turret. However, the problem was solved when I grabbed an evolved and tossed him into the tank, which then rolled forward over him, resulting in a barely moving sludge. The second evolved sliced at me, cutting through my abdomen. I returned the favor by opening him up like a piñata, dicing a saw from groin to head. He fell away, I followed by decapitating him, and while he was disoriented, ripping into the open hole in his body with claws.

The sludge tried to crawl away. I stomped on it until it died.

Only after the bloody work did I realize that over two dozen rifles now pointed at me, their owners either in disbelief, awe, or just straight up shocked.

"I won't be saving your asses a second time." With that, I took off again. No bullets followed me into the air, nor shouts and screams.

ooo

The rest of the city was in no better state. Suddenly, everyday normal people were growing claws and blades from their arms, teeth and mouths on their limbs, fangs for teeth, lights for eyes. They struck out randomly, against anything that belonged to order, ironic, for the Order. More than enough buildings caught fire after cars flew through their roofs, and even more collapsed as super strength grounded out their foundations.

I was not interested in the evolved. The military could take care of that. What I was looking for, as with the one before my very eyes, an oversized blade whacking away a semi like a ping pong ball, surrounded by three evolved, were prototypes.

He turned towards me, sensing my approach well before the evolved, and let out a battle cry, loud enough to rattle the remaining windows and powerful enough to send people ducking for cover. He took the nearest object, which happened to be a roadblock weighing around five hundred pounds, and hurled it at me. I swung around the concrete flying at a hundred miles per hour and landed nimbly in front of an evolved, who I stabbed through and kicked away.

With another roar, more animal than human, the prototype charged. My blades inflicted only the lightest damage before I was forced to roll away. His run carried him through a marble pillar, which caused an entire marble roof to collapse on him. I took the opportunity to grab an evolved and throw him away.

When the prototype emerged again, he found a car flying at him, which exploded on impact, forcing him to take a step back. I rushed in with the whip, dashing it from bottom up, the spikes licking the skin, flaying him as he stood.

In return he grabbed the whip and gave me a hard tug. I allowed myself to be dragged in, then curled in on myself into a ball of spikes, which rolled against his face, his blade bouncing off the shell.

He fell back. Blinded, he didn't see me leaping into the air and landing behind him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, now lined with teeth, sawing away at his midsection. He buckled, though I stayed on tight, then piercing his middle with my whip and expanded the end so that it was anchored firmly within. He howled in pain, an arm reaching back with an impossible angle and dragged me by my head, which only induced both my attachments to bleed him more. His strength allowed him to toss me away, crumbling through glass windows, but also for the teeth to completely shred his insides, now resembling something along the lines of a sponge.

He was dying. I saw, and saw that he knew it too. His face, no longer a snarl for battle, lit up in a crazy grin. I tensed. Then he ran, straight at me. I could only brace myself behind a shield wall. He bounded high into the air. I threw a wooden table over my shield. He exploded, in a shower of pikes, each over two feet long, each traveling as fast as a bullet. Cars exploded. Anyone remaining were impaled. Three hit me, the desk splintering instantly. The shield didn't work completely, only slowing the spears, each of which sent me slamming back against the far wall. From the spears some sort of acid was released, burning me. I quickly isolated the affected areas and shed three lumps of biomass. The acid rapidly ate through the weak membrane and dissolved a considerate portion of the tile flooring.

Standing outside, in a wobbly form, was the prototype. His grin fell as he watched me approach, still alive but equally unsteady. However, he had no more strength, using every last bit of it to decimate everything civilized in the whole block. He offered no resistance as I dug a hand into his exposed insides and devoured him.

ooo

Memory Sequence: James Rowe

_ The prophet's back was turned, revealing a large, golden cross on the white robe._

_ "Attention, all!" yelled another man, this one in black robes. Abbot McGiffin looked like his usual self, though more alive, and a bit more rugged. Immediately, the entire block of people straightened._

_ "At ease." Archbishop Peterson's face came into view as the prophet turned around, a warm smile on his face. He gestured to the group that stood directly ahead of him, but nodded all the same to the groups behind. "Welcome, soldiers of the Order. You may all wonder this: why were you chosen? But before I can answer this, I must tell you a story. This is the story of Alex Mercer: the man who created us all, but not to change the world for us, but for him, so that he can sit on a throne of flesh and bones._

_ "Alex Mercer was just another man, a scientist, but a special scientist, one who worked on a top secret bio-weapon. When his colleagues began to disappear left and right, he knew that the project was soon to be completed, and that the employers are tying up loose ends. So he did the natural thing: he took a vial of the weapon as insurance, and ran away._

_ "Of course, they caught him in the end. After all, they had more resources than him, running away on foot. In desperation, he smashed the vial, releasing the weapon in the middle of New York. They shot him on the spot, but it was too late. Tens of thousands of people died immediately, including Dr. Mercer._

_ "However, only a few days later, Mr. Mercer found himself awake, lying on an operating table in the middle of a morgue. Confused, he ran from the military, who shot at him on sight, and much to his surprise, he survived bullets. After that, he realized he not only survived bullets, but also explosions, decapitation, dismemberment and excessive pressure. A few days later, he destroyed the monstrous forerunner of the Creator, known only to us as Mother, to save the city from a total annihilation._

_ "But, the days of glory are now past. Now, the Creator has somehow reconstructed Mother, and unleashed the virus once again on this world, even more devastating than he did so the first time. He will have us, along with all the rest of the humans, turned into animals to serve his will. Which is where you come in._

_ "You will be the soldiers of the new world," his voice boomed, arms raised to the sky, "you will be the defenders of our order and freedom. You will be the ones to free us from the Creator's twisted plans! So arm yourselves," his hand a blade, "arm yourselves and be prepared to change this world!"_

_ There was not one stir after the speech, though an invisible bristle cut through the crowd like a dark wind. Slowly, the archbishop turned back to his original spot, and Abbot McGiffin stepped up. He was gesturing to people here and there, while Peterson was a statue, staring at nothing._

ooo

The military had responded quicker than I expected, a sky of helicopters already sweeping the city with bullets and rockets. Tanks patrolled the streets, guns blazing, followed by soldiers, weapons at ready. The evolved fell one to every five soldiers, while the prototypes smashed apart the machines of war with ease.

With each fight I became only more experienced, until each prototype, whether be big and strong or be quick and agile, offered fewer and fewer resistance, their moves predictable, their attacks slow. An explosive devastator was still trouble, but I had learned to never give them the chance to use it, knocking them out of the air before they could do so.

The fight became increasingly one-sided. That was, until I was batted out of the air.

Confused, I skimmed off the edge of a building, shattering the stone, then hit the ground, caving in a car. Looking up, I saw a monstrous black form, its arms, which disappeared into a point, came down. Automatically I rolled, and the thing all but flattened the car. Coming on my feet, I dodged another sweep and distanced myself from my attacker.

I was surprised to see it wasn't an evolved or prototype, rather an infected. A brute. Even more confused, I missed its lightning speed as it sent me flying into a building. Infected didn't attack me, usually, until now.

There was an earth-shattering roar, and the ground shook. The skies were suddenly overcast with gargantuan sized birds that brought down helicopters. Monsters were on the streets, battling the bewildered evolved and the surprised military.

The brute came again, only for me to kick it back. It sailed across the street and landed on its back. I was in no mood to continue the fight, so I ran, not before giving it another good, hard kick.

From above, I no longer had the peace of uninterrupted flights, with the occasional helicopter to dodge, but now to ward off flocks of oversized crows with metal beaks and razor wings. Each one I smashed down was replaced quickly replaced by another. Half between annoyance and frustration, I thought to the prototypes' explosive power, and detonated a sphere of viral spears in midair. Immediately I felt a huge amount of mass leaving my body, but on the bright side, every flyer within a hundred yard radius were falling out of the sky. Almost pleased with myself, I continued my voyage to the smoke clouds that rose in the distance.

Even as I neared, I felt the overwhelming power in the center of the storm. In the span of a few minutes, large bulbs of viral mass had somehow clustered themselves within a block and formed a hive of sorts. Crawling on its surface were beasts of all sizes. They were horrendously misshapen, all the wrong proportions, all the wrong sizes. I landed a distance away, just so that I did not become overwhelmed the moment I touched the ground.

It appeared be some sort of a base of operations, considering the heavy infestation in proximity. The creatures nearby were not heavily aggressive, though they regards me with suspicion and hostility. However, they did not leave the hive, only standing on it and staring me down. Every step I took to their direction invoked a chorus of hisses. When I was only fifty yards away from the hive, which reared up into the sky in a bulge of red, a juggernaut landed heavily before me, its disgusting mouth roaring a challenge.

I considered it. If I killed it, I would likely to be swarmed within seconds. On the other hand, if I didn't destroy this hive thing, the entire city would fall. I weighed my options, the juggernaut pounding the ground.

Click.

I turned, surprised.

Click, click, click.

There was Alex Mercer, looking considerably more refined than the two brawlers at his back. His shoes tapped out a series rhythmic clicks against the asphalt. He strode casually, stopping just ten yards ahead of me, surveying me up and down. I wrinkled my nose at him, bothered.

"Congratulations, you have survived."

"Am I not supposed to?"

"No. I don't plan to kill you yet."

I didn't miss the way he purposely left the emphasis out of "yet." Narrowing my eyes, I stalked him in a circle, the broken buildings and rubble our arena. He stood calmly in the center, his brawlers still as statues.

"I won't let you destroy the city."

"Ahh." I felt like I walked straight into a trap. "But I'm not destroying this city like I am with New York. No one here has been killed by mine, short of those disgusting Order." He sniffed in annoyance.

"But you are making it easier for you to conquer the entire human race. Somehow."

"So what if I am?" He spread his arms. "This race is a disease. I will only cleanse it by turning them into perfection." He petted a brawler, like a dog. It didn't move.

"I will not let you."

Now he was amused. "You will not let me? You can't stop me."

I took a step forward. The trap snapped shut.

"Is this a challenge? I suppose it is." He waved his hand, which sharpened to a thin blade, looking almost identical to the pair on me. "Well, then, Ms. Snow, why don't you show me the reason they call you Harbinger of Death?"

ooo

The blades crossed in a spectacular shower of sparks.

I had always thought my life was heading to nowhere, and that the only thing that awaited me after the war was death and peace. Yet here I was, riding along on the cart of bones fate had given me, clashing arms with the most powerful being to ever exist in the history of this planet.

A step, a feint, a slash.

Now I knew the second reason he was called the Creator. He was quick, he was strong, he was agile. For every move I made, he knew to counter it in the exact way that would make it impossible to follow with what I had originally planned in mind. He needed only a fist and a blade to ward off both mine and a pair of extra tentacles.

A jab, a block.

I felt like I knew why it felt like such a bad idea to fight him, then he only made me feel even smaller. He gave one on one combat a whole new meaning. When I disengaged as his suddenly lengthened blade ripped through the ground, his entire body melted. Skin became a blur of red as his shape deformed, then, as I watched in horror and fascination, peeled away like strips of paper. And here I thought I knew all the ways biomass could be manipulated to hurt.

Now he was a whirling hurricane, his very essence clouding me in a vortex of teeth. His entire form surrounded me like a wall, cut off to the outside. I could no longer fight off his every jab, only to strike out blindly and hope I hit him. I did, several times, while he all but turned me into a butchered meat.

"_Is that the best you could do?_" His whisper was death's own scythe, cutting through the air with howling sear.

A glove trapped my blades, wrapped them around and around until I could not move them. A hundred more cut ripped along my body. He had all but won.

The final resort. The swords grew spikes, barely able to pierce the biomass abound. I thought I heard Mercer's laugh. I gave one final push.

Immediately the laughter stopped, cut off by the sudden roar, a roar which shook the world. The attacks stopped, pulled back. I relaxed, perhaps more than I should have, but I didn't care. In front was the Creator, grabbing himself in pain. He most definitely was not expecting a biological attack. The neurotoxin left traces of black in his red flesh.

He stumbled away, growling. For a moment, just in the window of time, I saw Alex Mercer. Under the stained hood were the demonic eyes that glowed from their depths. Light did not reach his upper face, though illuminated his mouth, which parted to reveal shark's teeth and a tongue of snake. Red patches lined his face, as though burning away. Bones jugged out at random angles along his limbs and torso. His hands were claws, his forearm serrated blades, his chest a gaping maw.

Then it was gone, and there was only a human again. He took a moment to straighten himself, and when he was done, he was, oddly, not angry, but rather satisfied.

"I didn't know you had it in you," he said, almost smugly.

It was as though he wasn't even ticked that I had poisoned him, but practically proud. I felt once again that I was being lured around in a circle. "I'll do it again if I must."

"Atta girl." His grin turned sharp. "You won't need to kill me to save this city." Waving away my obvious question, he continued, "A goliath has been unleashed. Kill the goliath, and hallelujah, you are the savior of five hundred thousand people."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you gain from this?"

"Depends." He shrugged, didn't answer my question. "Now go. I expect a good show."

ooo

I was in good part annoyed that I had been shooed away like that. On the other hand, it was nice not getting cut into a thousand pieces. It was an added bonus that he had given me the choice to kill the goliath.

I felt the ground shake, the tremors enough to rattle cars and crumble walls. I headed towards the worst of the smoke, knowing that the goliath wasn't able to hide behind mere buildings. Along the way I caught several naughty evolved, who were easily dispatched. A juggernaut managed to hit me with a chunk of asphalt. I came down on it like a falling star, the impact smashing everything within a block radius. It survived, just barely, though not the saw blade I tore through it with.

Everywhere the battle continued. The military sent shell after shell at the infected monsters, which gnawed upon the still twitching bodies of the evolved, the survivors of who were slaughtering men left and right. Nobody cared too much for me, just a blur that raced through the blooded field, on my own mission.

Apparently not the case, when a form headed in my direction for a head-on collision as I was passing by a green park, filled with craters and corpses. Just before impact, I vaulted over it. It ran past, unable to stop. While I debated to whether run away or stand and fight, another form emerged from behind a large tree and bounded at me. I was unable to change speed in midair, so I prepared for impact.

The prototype hit hard, his speed greater than mine. His crash sent us both carting through the air. He tried to grab on, but I severed his hand with a blade. The other, who had ran past, wheeled around and punched me hard in the back. Only a blurry red sleeve was visible while I flew forward and made another crater.

Annoyed, I stood up. I had expected a rush attack, so wasn't surprised when the green-shirted man half flew at me. He, in turn, was in for a shock when he rammed into a spiked shield. He tried to stab his blade around the shield, but I shoved him, sending him flying back.

The red man danced in, spinning a wide arc with the axe. I ducked and smashed his nose with a punch. He quickly retreated, but the other had already returned, his arm erupting in a series of spikes. The shield wasn't quick enough to form, so I took the two hits that rocked me on my feet. But when the green man was within range, a flail whacked him back.

I couldn't hold my position forever. Though they came one at a time, it would not take them long enough to realize all they had to do was group and then attack from all sides. I could be easily overwhelmed two on one. Now the only defense I had was to hit them hard enough to make them back off, then prepare the same for the other man. But time was on their side. The longer it took me to kill the goliath, the more devastation it and Mercer's army could cause.

I tossed the green man into a tree. The red man missed with his whip and was impaled to the ground by a massive lance. The green man smashed the dirt ground up with his hammer, but didn't watch the extra tentacles I sent around the combat. He was stabbed through the shoulder and received a nasty dose of acid. While he struggled to heal himself, the red man had his head bashed into the ground after he opened my stomach with a glancing slice.

Oh, the salvation! As the green man came again, the ground in front of him exploded in a shower of dirt. He stopped, confused. Another explosion hit him head on, blowing him away.

Bewildered, I turned to find a column of four tanks, their heavy tracks digging into the grass, their massive turrets whirling to find their target, their mounts swinging to pour bullets. On the turret of the head was someone I thought I would possibly never see again. Officer Alfred. He grinned darkly, then unleashed his machine gun.

The red man saw the new threats, and proceeded to fly into the air at the tanks. The armors were too slow to turn their guns to fire at the prototype. I latched a whip around his ankle with perfect accuracy, just in time. He fell straight at the ground. A shell exploded his face into pudding, the bloodtox splattering everywhere, including onto me, but I managed to hold the pain enough to drag him in.

The green man was still in his own personal crater, holding a shield to ward off the barrage of bullets and bombs.

A blade pierced my stomach. The shelling had stopped, at least, considerate of Alfred. I twisted my insides, the blade twisting with me. The red man suddenly found himself in an awkward position, then a deadly one, as I sprayed a mouthful of acid onto his still melting face. He rolled away, clutching at his head. I let him get five yards away, then leaped into the air and slamming onto his helpless form with armored plates of teeth. He could barely deflect a slash, and completely failed to stop the probes, which extended from my hand in the form of two tentacles which wormed themselves to his insides and began to devour his flesh. He tried to scream in pain, though without a mouth, came out only as a weak exhale. In his final moments, he was staring with hopelessness at the large blade that raced at his eyes.

As the final traces of the red man slurped into me, I found the green man still holding his barrier. His face paled when he saw me, then grimaced in pain as bloodtox bullets slammed into him. Before I could even take a step at him, he dissolved the shield and took into the air. I was too far to catch him with a whipfist, and too occupied to care. A few last shells sailed in the air after him, though missing and removing chunks from an apartment building.

Officer Alfred gave his tank a good pat when I walked over.

"Oiy! Didn't expect you of all people to be here."

I gave him a dazzling smile. "Heard about the invasion on the news," I casually lied, "thought I might help out."

"Good grief! Guess cap Vinson wasn't kidding when he said we got a new ally. Welcome aboard!"

I thought he was rather foolish, so couldn't help myself to another smile. "Thanks." The soldier on the tank immediately behind tensed as I came even closer, close enough to touch the metal armor. I pretended he didn't exist. "You mind if–"

"Watch out!"

"–I tugged along?" was lost when a form flew overhead, propelled by blue flames. A ball of fire shot down. The flames exploded, torching everything within proximity to the tank and blowing me off my feet.

I stood quickly, ignoring the smell of charred flesh that rose in clouds around me. Alfred's tank was more or less roasted, though still operable as it tried to turn its cannon. Alfred himself, however…

I leaped into the air and followed the blue trail.

It seemed aware that it was being tailed. A series of rockets shot back, all of which I dodged by swinging in midair. A laser pointer aimed itself at my chest. I barely had time to move out of the way as a red flash zipped past.

At only a hundred yard away, racing through the clouds, I caught the identity of the murderer. A Blackwatch specialist, throwing fire left and right, heating the air to stop me in my pursuit. I let myself expand, until holes opened in my form, transforming me to a giant net. A fireball that was about to hit me instead flew through me. In the time that the specialist was confused, I contracted and shot a sticky appendage at him. It stuck to his jetpack. I shed the wings and dropped to the ground.

Our sudden, combined weight made the jetpack whine in protest. The specialist tried to burn me away, but I shot a second latch, one that wrapped itself around his armored boot. He wobbled in the air. I tore my first appendage away, and came with it the jetpack. Then we were falling through the sky, towards the open street barely visible below. I sliced at him midair, but he burned me away.

Then the ground was here.

The impact jarred me just a little. The asphalt had shattered, leaving me standing in a crater of dust. The specialist, with his whatever specialist training, fell slower. As he landed, he unleashed his flamethrowers to slow his descent, and landed in a graceful skip.

I threw a rock at him, which he dived away from, showering me with more flames. I shot a volley of spears in his general direction, and was rewarded when one of them nailed his helmet and made him land flat on his back. He tried to flip, but I was already there, grabbing him and slamming him into the ground. In the last second he detonated a grenade, the force of it blowing him one way and me another. I closed the sudden distance in a second.

I underestimated the reaction time of a trained human.

He dodged expertly and left in his wake a cluster of grenades which exploded into a fiery storm as my momentum carried me farther than I liked. There were sounds of shouts and gunfire and more explosions as the military arrived. I must have looked quite the sight: a maniac monster of tentacles, on fire, tearing up stone as I tried to catch a tiny form that danced around me.

He was good, I had to admit. With each swing I missed, he only got faster. When I rushed in from all directions, he launched a missile that exploded with maximum damage, forcing me to back off. The dance was very one-sided, and I was getting frustrated.

Until he took a misstep.

He landed on the jagged edge of a concrete block, which caused him to almost lose his footing. I smashed my mass into the ground, which erupted in a line of violent spikes. He was too slow to dodge out of the way, flung away by the force.

His feet didn't touch the ground before he exploded the street into another storm of fire, but I ignored the burning flesh and instead seized him by the neck. While he continuously spewed flames from his hands, I squeezed the armor. It held, only for a moment, but began to crack. The desperation was tangible in the air. But it wasn't over quite yet.

As his last mark on the world, the specialist shut down all his fire. I stopped for a moment, confused. The heat receded. My vision began to clear. The military began to edge in.

Then he exploded.

His suit burst apart at the seams, before melting completely down as molten metal. The power of the explosion sent me flying backward, engulfed by the sudden star that erupted in the center of the street. The world became illuminated by burning light, rushing forward as though a hurricane. I was being melt away. I felt the flames lick my skin, turning it to ashes then more. The pain followed soon, a wave of white, hot iron, burning against my conscious. I felt the floodgate crack.

As soon as it had appeared, it vanished, leaving behind traces of smoke and headaches. What had originally been a city block, though covered in various craters and smashed windows, was now an ancient ruin after a great fire. Buildings had been torched to the point where their walls were sludge from the heat and the metals nearby still burning with an inner light.

I landed farther away onto my back, scorched from head to toe. I discovered I could not move. It was frustrating, to know that I was capable, yet not able to. I barely lifted a skeletal arm off the rubble on the ground.

Footsteps crunched the ruined rocks around. I heard them, indistinct voices, hushed, mechanical. A few clicks here and there. A couple of cracks around.

I focused on myself. I had no strength, only enough to shift my own mass like a fluid.

A few roars, then shouts and gunfire. Soldiers began to retreat. Heavier masses moved in, impacts shaking the ground. Growls, screams. More pops.

I let myself drop into a pool of red.

Something else landed close, the pebbles thrown around. A nastier roar.

Taking all the strength available to me, I flung out a thin thread, no more than a needle, in the general direction of the clinging of bullets and the crunching of rocks. It hit. Immediately, teeth grew and gnawed onto the surface. There was another scream, then the earth shook again. I ignored them. Flesh was eaten and absorbed. With more and more strength, I stood up, half humanoid, resembling a sheet of blackened crimson.

The juggernaut swung, hitting the center of the mass. However, it didn't expect its fist to be caught in the slimy substance, which only grew more teeth. I was reclaiming life, stolen life. The thread grew thicker and thicker with more energy it took, expanding out to form a web of sticky appendages that chewed through skin quicker than fire through wood. The infected let out one last howl, as the tentacles penetrated skin to devour the meat within. With each second it was getting weaker.

Four brawlers were nearby, fighting against two tanks and two evolved. The confusing skirmish was made worse when a helicopter arrived and unleashed a torrent of bullets.

The juggernaut fell, its skin shrinking into itself, its ugly face rapidly decomposing until only a faint resemblance remained. I was almost whole again, gleefully draining it of its last saps of life.

One tank suffered heavy damage from an evolved tossing a car into its side, but still let off a round that blew the offending evolved away. A brawler had climbed onto its cannon and was busy tearing the weapon from the armor. The helicopter gunned it down, swung dangerously as the other evolved leaped aboard and latched onto the bottom.

I felt my power again, though not as strong as before, but enough to make the world tremble. I let out a ferocious scream. The evolved looked at me in uncertainness, the brawlers in fear, the military men in horror. My claws ripped through meat like hot knife through butter. Blood coated the street.

ooo

I walked through the board streets, openly in the middle, waiting for the next challenge. A whip that dragged behind me dug then sliced through the asphalt with ease. The clouds still loomed heavily in the sky, matching me step by step.

But there was no one left. The only thing that dared face me was the eerie silence of the rubbles of the city. Bodies were left to decompose in the harsh weather, people, infected, evolved, soldiers. Occasionally I came across a few still alive, and I devoured them. A painless death and a snack for me.

Behind was the behemoth, dead. It had fought fiercely, but in the end, it wasn't about who had more muscles or who could smash apart a building faster, but who had more control over the virus. It could do nothing to me while I chipped away its flesh bit by bit. Now it lay, like a monument to this attack, chunks missing from its skin, a hole in its head. I did not feel like moving it. Perhaps the military and its overenthusiastic scientists could find a use for it.

There, a moving lump. I strode casually over. It was an evolved.

"Please," he croaked, a feeble hand raised to stop me.

I did not strike straightaway, only observe. His entire left arm was missing, from which stumps leaked a disgusting, red liquid. Bullet holes tattered his cloths. His face featured a nasty gash, from a claw. His mouth tried to open again to speak, but could not find the energy.

This was the end of the Order. It had made a terrible gamble, that it would be able to strike down the military and dominate the east, where the Loyalists were few and far in between. But without McGiffin, who risked his own life away in an attempt to kill me, the Order was headless. Peterson might be a powerful leader, but he was deaf to the most obvious solutions. I had broken them.

"Please."

My face hardened. There was to be no more of that garbage floating around after I was done. I would remove their entire organization from the surface of this planet forever, starting with this man. He couldn't muster a scream, only a pathetic hitch.

ooo

"_Charlie Company come in._"

"_All set and ready, over._"

"_All units are to report to the airfield, on the double. Over._"

"_On our way, over._"

The plane began to lift off.

Below, just barely visible, were massive columns of smoke that rose, ever so slowly, into the air, to taint the clean clouds above with their horror. Few buildings were left standing, even fewer intact. The city was destroyed. Mercer had won again.

"_ETA to New York in 30 minutes, boys! Better strap yourselves in and await arrival!_"

There was only grim silence.

I stared into the eyes of the person opposite of me. He was a no one, yet somehow an anchor to this world. He, the brave man, fought, with his life, against the powerful beast that wished to claim this world for its own. He had every right, every single right, to survive this day, and the next day, and the next, and the next, until he could once again see his beloved family. A little photo of a smiling woman and two jumping kids stuck out of the corner of his armor. I said nothing to him, yet somehow he understood me all the same.

This war would be over soon. I felt it, just in the back of my mind. Somehow, everything, everything was tied to New York, the place of the first outbreak, which had not even escaped the city borders. I knew, just a feeling, that Alex Mercer was waiting. He was waiting, for the army, for me, so that he could unleash chaos once again, to destroy New York. But even now, while I felt his smile on the back of my neck, despite the disguise, I sent to him images of civilization and victory, defying him at every turn.

ETA 20 minutes.

20 minutes to my final goal: the head of the Order, Ronald I. Peterson. I could see him in my mind's eye, the enlightened smile, the light of the skies. He knew I was coming. He knew the moment McGiffin died in Las Vegas. He knew the moment I escaped the city alive. But he could not stop me. I was on my way, because there is no other way; not even the world could stop me.

I came to finish the game.

**Update:**

Finished the chapter. Removed previous note.

**A/N**

Here's the completed version! As you can see, there is, in fact, not a Mercer boss fight, but it does just reveal a little about Mercer's true powers.

Happy Holidays, everyone! Unfortunately, I will be taking another vacation (crazy, right?), so that will severely limit my time to write. But I will try to get as much time as possible into this story, and hopefully finish it before the end of January.


	15. Hell on Earth

Part V – Eye of the Storm

_When you see the monster, it's already too late. When you meet the monster, you will find no monster. When you empathize the monster, you find yourself against the world. When you realize you are the product of the monster, you can have no room for good. When you become the monster, you will look at yourself, and wonder if this world is truly a lost cause._

* * *

><p>"This is the most dangerous mission we have ever been given, even more deadly than the fit Mercer and Peterson threw in Washington."<p>

The plane dipped a little, carried by the air flow. There was only a steel wall from the deadly drop and the freezing winds outside. Bags lined the metal, sticking from their insides were guns, magazines, launchers, radio.

"Not all of us will come back from this."

The rusty hack of the engines seemed to confirm this. The speaking man was standing on a crate, still despite the rocking movements. His voice carried above the unearthly silence that fought to overpower the cabin.

"I only ask one thing of you: remember your duties. No matter how the enemies appear, we cannot let fear destroy us. We will hold the last line, because there is nothing else to stop these monsters."

A fist to the air, followed by many.

"Hoorah!"

A shout, followed by many.

"_Charlie Company, move out!_"

"Let's go!"

The plane opened. Forms, like dots, leaped to the air, high above the ground. The clouds were beautiful mountains, reflecting the glaring sun like crystalline giants. Below was the rift of the worlds, on one side the forever blue of the ocean, the other the grey and green of land. Buildings were jagged pikes waiting to impale the falling. The trees were a carpet of green, silent guardians of the old world.

One by one each body fell, spread like eagles. The black suits cut the air like blades. The humans inside breathed with anticipation. Quick breaths, still form. The clouds parted to reveal a battlefield.

The fake fell, too, though did not attempt to slow. Taking the form of a piercing shell, it launched at the ground, an obsidian rock, towards the many flames that burned along the streets. Light seemed to bend around its quick passage.

"Holy shit!"

"What the fuck is that?!"

I never slowed, racing at the thickest knot of the evolved. They had a split second to look up before I squished two with enough force to dig into the ground, throwing up chunks of rock around us in a wall. The fighting had taken a pause, where everyone stared in a mixture of confusion and horror. I took the moment to restructure my mass, then burst from the ground in a flurry of blades.

Bullets ripped through me, the soldiers firing on instinct. I ignored the majority of the damage, only defending myself from the prototype. He yelled as he smashed a chunk from a building, then as he kicked a car at a tank. The tank mistook me for the offender and prepare to fire, and was subsequently caved into as I landed heavily on its turret.

The ground gave tremors. People fell, evolved stumbled, the prototype paused in his strike, alert. I roared as my fist pounded through his chest and then, using his body as a board, kicked off into the air. What was Mercer's problem?!

The prototype was surprised when I disengaged, then screamed as the biobomb exploded in a violent surge of tendrils that blasted holes through brick walls and metal armor. Within a second everything had been blown away from the block, with the exception of the prototype, who unsteadily climbed to his feet. I let him live, taking to the skies, searching.

Another tremor rocked the city.

Clouds of red reared up in the distant Long Island. The mist grew and grew, until within their forms was lightning and storm. Something moved under the blanket of shadows, taller than the buildings. The tremors grew in power. What looked like the kraken seemed to dance under the smoke. I approached slowly, watchful.

There, on the building ahead. I caught a glimpse of it.

Mother.

She stood within her mouth of jagged teeth, each as large as a person, each wickedly sharp. Her arms were raised to the sky, creating the beast. In the clouds, the mist thickened, the red spread.

She must have heard my approach, because as soon as I began a dive at her, she glanced back, revealing only a porcelain face and a pupil-less red eye before disappearing into the mouth, which closed over her, like a monster at sea that seemingly swallowed her whole. Cautious, I landed nearby, careful not to fall, and peered down the giant hole made by whatever Mother's newest creation was. It cut through the entire building, leaving behind sparks of broken machines and chunks of concrete that fell into the gaping maw. Even below the building, there was only an emptiness. I shivered, and decided it was best to not pursue Mother.

The monster in the smoke moved, shaking the earth with each step. The mist seemed to move with it, like a rain cloud of red filth. I took off again, intent on stopping it, and knowing that if I didn't, this whole city would be leveled soon. Mercer and … whatever the thing Mother was wouldn't win here.

Half-bewildered, half-shivering, I almost missed the mass of the fighting. It was utter chaos. Evolved killed soldiers, infected, other evolved, with swords, guns, rocket launchers. I had to do a double take, wondering if my mind had finally lost it. It hadn't, which was a good thing, though on the other hand, it meant more trouble. Besides the Order, there was another group of evolved running around, causing even more chaos in the already messy fighting. Looked like the Loyalists were finally coming into the open.

A particular fight caught my eye.

A prototype, not Order, stabbed his blade into the neck of an evolved and flung the poor man high into the air, then danced past a spraying machine gun and decapitated the gunner. He looked up into the sky. Anthony Carson saluted me before whirling around with blinding speed and bashing in the head of another evolved.

I stopped on a building. Like a gargoyle, I perched on the roof, staring down at the turmoil below.

Apparently the military was having enough of their losses. Helicopters and bomber jets swept in like a tide of death, covering the ground in a blanket of fire. Carson turned to receive a full round of bullets in his chest. He fell back, warding off three closing soldiers, who fired in short, controlled bursts from their rifles. I stood up, ready to intervene.

_Splat!_

Carson's right shoulder exploded in a shower of blood. He stumbled, then his cheek shattered as something ripped through it, disintegrated to a few bare strands that connected his eye to his jaw. He landed heavily on his back, staring at the masked officer who swept his sword left and right as he advanced, holding a heavy pistol. He held up a hand, but the officer didn't stop, already aiming his pistol again.

_Bam!_

With his eyes closed, Carson awaited death, but instead found it had not come to claim its due yet. Under the dark sun, I clutched my chest where the bullet hit, the massive projectile exploding in my middle, now a blank hole, twisting as it burned. The officer was shocked, his eyes widening under his mask. He stood, absolutely still. The pain was too much. The large dose of bloodtox was beginning to take effect, preventing the injury from healing.

"What–?"

Vinson was removing his mask, the sword already tucked into its scabbard, mouth gaping. The three soldiers were circled around their captain in a ring, shooting down the flood of walkers. Carson was on his feet once more, no longer armed.

"Poison."

Before the word even left my mouth, Carson's arm ripped into my back, from where the bullet emerged. I felt him remove the bloodtox, trapping the chemical in his own arm. I jerked when he pulled his arm out again, shedding a lump of biomass in the process, which landed in a splatter against the ground. In only a second, the bloodtox ate through the outer layer of the mass, reducing it to a red stain on the ground.

"What–?" Vinson still stood. His eyes jumped between the two of us, as though a trapped animal, his pistol dropping from his hand. He did not receive a response from me.

"You two be nice to each other. I want a talk with both of you when I get back."

I didn't let either speak before jumping up again, though the hurt made me stumble just a little, so I hit the side of a building instead. Without break, I scrambled up, rather clumsily, and was gone as quick as possible. Though I didn't miss the bewildered look Vinson shot Carson, who shrugged and tossed the pistol to the other man.

* * *

><p>Mercer's pets lined every street, filled every canny, swarmed in clouds, gathered in armies. The military was falling apart under the advance of the titan, with every step crushing entire streets, with each swipe crumbling entire blocks.<p>

Too many flyers zipped by every direction, most of which died as I swung three large whips in circles in the air. However, when a larger bird dove down, I had to burst forward in the air as my whips bounced off its hide. It screeched, such an inhuman voice I wondered where the person before had gone. Two red eyes glared at me, two razor wings diced the air. I grunted when one of the feathers grazed my back.

I couldn't outrun it; the bird was more agile and faster in the air, and had tougher skin, too. However, it lacked strength, which I used to bash it away. Screeching that painful sound, it came again, only to be whacked away. Now angry, it tried to bite me, but I dipped under, and opened its stomach up with a blade as it flew overhead. It fell down, tumbling through the air.

I did not see where it landed, as I felt something else watching. Looking back, there was the New York sky line, though nothing out of ordinary, except the massive fights that swept through the city. The feeling persisted.

So absorbed in the strange sensation, the lash caught me by surprise, literally. Something below gave a tug and I found myself falling through the air, wind whistling through my ears. On the street was an oddity if I ever saw one. From an extraordinarily large mouth, ringed in sharp teeth, extended out tentacles that reached into the sky. It opened its maw wide as the tentacle dragged me in by the foot. I cut it away just before the teeth could close on me.

_Roar!_ Uh oh.

The entire creature began to rise from the ground, resembling something of an oversized earthworm. I threw my whip at a building, thanked fate when it stuck, and dragged myself out of the way as the teeth snapped where I was only a second before. Panicking, I scrambled up, narrowly avoiding another tentacle that smashed the concrete where it landed. The beast did not follow me, but sank back into the ground, leaving behind a dark tunnel in the dirt.

I sat on the roof for a few seconds, wondering if this world had really lost its mind. Perhaps it already had.

The feeling was back. When I looked up again, this time I found a man, standing tall and proud, like a soldier. Red tubes dug through his skin like living creatures. A armor of spikes lined his shoulder. Alex Mercer smiled down on me, a sinister flash of teeth. Then he was gone, leaving behind nothing of his presence.

* * *

><p>The blanket of blood was closing in on the city. Behind, it laid waste to all sign of civilization. Snakes' heads still twisted and churned within the middle, as though in an intimate dance. Tank shells flew into the clouds, but their explosions were muffled to mere flashes of light that was the lightning to the storm. Occasionally, there were roars, monstrous roars, that was the thunder.<p>

I flew in at a high altitude, watching for more giant birds. It was fortunate that the helicopters existed to distract them, allowing me to pass through relatively unscathed.

Until I entered the mist.

From the outside, there was only a blurred form, but on the inside, there was no sight at all. Normal vision range extended to about twenty feet. Infected spectrum revealed the rain to be made of Blacklight, which didn't help as I narrowed missed a swinging thing, which cut through the air so quickly I was almost sucked backwards. Thermo vision was how I saw, though I regretted every second I spent in there.

The monster was so massive that it covered every direction with its swinging tentacles that were as wide as houses and as long as trains. Pores were lined along them, from within unleashing torrents of red mist. I expertly evaded the moving pieces that carried enough force to flatten me into a pancake. The blurry tower was just ahead.

I was in for a shock as I entered the center of the mist.

A gigantic, glowing red eye stared at me while I dodged its attacks. The tentacles were clumped enough that a slight mistake would essentially squish me. When I struck one with my sword, it was barely pierced, the tough armor strong enough to deflect most of the serrated blade. The monster noticed my presence. It roared. My auditory systems broke.

The snakes bit at me with teeth that grew from their heads. Suddenly the air around was filled with sharp spikes. I hooked myself to a tentacle and was dragged away, the momentum almost detaching my arm. The titan didn't notice, still searching for me in the red mist. It roared again, angry. A ring of smaller eyes grew out around the large one, scrutinizing every inch of the veil.

I was on a whirlwind. The snake danced back and forth, in and out. Briefly I caught a view of the outside world. The city was too close. Then it disappeared, and I was dragged through the inside, barely missing another tentacle.

Something exploded against the outer layers of tentacles, curtsy of the military. The explosion was hot, hot enough to be felt from inside the storm cloud, and bright, brighter than the sun or the giant eye. The monster seemed to almost stagger a step, roaring in anger. From glimpses of outside, it was getting more aggressive, swiping down planes like flies. Another missile flew.

It was a lucky shot. The warhead zipped past the wave of dancing snakes like a dart. The eye saw it too. Immediately a wall of tentacles lined themselves up like a barrier against the missile. I detached myself from where I hung on and embraced myself in a shield. And prayed.

The bomb was more destructive than anything I had seen before. The pure heat that raced in every direction was enough to blister thick armor and fry flesh. It was as though someone put a miniature sun inside the cloud. Immediately the red mist in the center dissipated, melted away by the heat, then the wave hit me, and I was launched backwards. My shields melted down quicker than I would have liked and my insides burned. It was even more uncomfortable than bloodtox, as though I was sitting in an oven, waiting to be cooked.

Then the world blanked out for a bit.

I slammed into something with my back, which moved and tossed me back into the middle. The eye was still there, warped and damaged, though nonetheless furious. It roared once more. An entire flight of jets curved dangerously to dodge the speeding attacks.

I flew at the eye.

One of the smaller eyes saw me first, and, from its vicinity, erupted a jungle of toothed tendrils. They latched on painfully, digging through flesh. But they could not stop me. My sword decapitated most of them in one swing, then all but one in another. The last I used to drag myself forward, steadily towards the center of the beast. It took a large step forward, almost throwing me off.

Another building fell. Another bright missile exploded. Another jet crashed into the storm.

Then I was there, sawing off the last tentacle as I latched onto the skin of the titan, which didn't even see to notice my presence. Each of its movements made earthquakes and groans in the air. Each of its steps shook the world. Each of its eyes bled as I stabbed them through. Each sticky tendrils twitched as I seared through them.

The giant eye stare at me as I approached. More entrenchments tried to trap my footing, but they melted away as I cut through them like paper. The monster shook itself, along the earth in its movements, but my feet dug into its thick hide. A tentacle the size of the Statue of Liberty tried to crush me, but I simply rolled away, letting it miss. The monster roared again. I heard the desperation within its voice, and gave it no mercy.

The sword grew in length and size, until it was as tall as me. The titan finally blinked. I did not.

I dived into its large eye, making it howl in pain and rearing like a horse. Another thermobarbic missile detonated against it, melting the flesh to produce a terrible odor. Napalm loaded with bloodtox fell from the skies in the searing rain of the storm, hot and blistering. I ignored them all, digging deeper and deeper, until the creature's insides surrounded me. A tentacle as wide as a garbage truck poised over me threateningly. I tensed. It struck.

But before it could make contact, I pushed all my biomass to its extreme limits. Skin bubbled as snakes burst out in an explosive devastator, each spike impaling through the beast. Another terrible roar shook the city. The large tentacle pushed itself into the hole I made of the creature's eye, intent on squishing me. As the lanced reached their full length, still attached to me, I retracted them, a hook on each end pulling the shredded flesh into the epicenter. The monster wailed then, as a chunk of its center was turned into Swiss cheese.

It began to fall, slowly at first, then gathering speed. The massive tentacles tumbled into the earth, smashing anything under their weight. The storm cloud was lifting, clearing the skies again. The storm was gone, dead.

Yet it wasn't. On some small level, the titan was still alive, just barely hanging onto life, onto revenge. I slashed my way through the porous meat, barely pulsing with power anymore. I felt it, the life, in the center, just a bit farther away. An endoskeleton gave no resistance as I shattered it to access the heart of the beast. An explosion shook the dead monster, the military giving it one, last parting gift.

I was here. Ahead was a chamber, lined with hardened veins and wavy tentacles. I cut them down like weeds. Attached to the middle, by tight strings of nerves, was the core. It glowed brightly still, like a furnace, a welcoming hearth after its masters' leave. When I grabbed it, it was warm, hot even. When I ripped it from its body, it seemed to die a little. When I absorbed it, the titan gave one last shudder, and then lay still, still as ever, a tombstone of Mercer's malice.

* * *

><p>"You are certainly a brave one, and powerful, too," the woman said, lightly stepped towards me above the rubble. She was certainly ordinary, jacket, jean skirt, pants. Her faint blue eyes stared at me, unafraid. "And noble," she gestured to the destroyed city, "if you hadn't intervened, more lives would have been lost."<p>

"What's it to you?"

"So aggressive." She waved my offending question off as though a fly, turning to gaze at the Long Island beach. "Must you answer every appraisal with suspicion?"

I narrowed my eyes. "People lie."

"People lie," she agreed, "but only those who are powerless otherwise. I have no reason to lie."

She put one foot on a jagged rock, like a conqueror, surveying the destruction. Against the sunlight, her form seemed to shift, unless my eyes blurred from the brightness. The dead titan was behind, a massive snake head resting just thirty yards away. She paid it no attention.

"Who are you?"

At this, she turned and smiled, warmly. "My name is Dana Mercer."

She waited, and I stood, dumbfolded, wondering whether that was supposed to be of significance to me. Realization hit me like an arc of electricity, burning my cheeks and shocking me to the core. "As in Alex Mercer?"

"Yes."

"So– So, you're his–?"

"Sister."

"But– What–?" For once, I was at a loss for words. She did not answer, only look at me with a strange curiosity.

How was this possible, that Alex Mercer had a sister? How was she so human? How was he to destroy her world? Question swam through my head like a flock of fishing birds, constantly diving into the water only to resurface and multiply. Something dark lurked just beneath the water, but I could not see it. From it spewed more birds.

I knew something was wrong the way she held her smile, like a mother to her child. I knew this with absolute certainty, the way the sunlight seemed to bend around her like a halo, the way she conquered the world, the way she held out an unwavering hand to my blade in friendship and comfort.

"Who are you?"

Her smile was no longer beautiful, dark, corrupting, decayed. Red glints lined the dark depth of her eyes. Something moved in the back of her throat, a shadow. Her hand became more skeletal.

"So cautious. I like that. Maybe that's what my brother saw in you."

"You are not Dana Mercer."

She turned to face me, now taller than me by half a foot, holding that sinister smile. "I have no reason to lie."

"But that isn't the truth."

She paused in her step. Her smile widened. "Clever girl. But in every way, Alex Mercer _is_ my brother."

"Just not by blood."

She threw her head back and laughed, the sound hollow, empty, dead, yet still amused. "Blood is weak. Why would we keep this failing line between us, when we are so much more than that? Why would we stay human, when we are already gods?"

I stilled, as the clouds overhead darkened, as the light itself seemed to be eaten by her very presence, as she siphoned the energy of life from the air. "Mother."

Her smile widened, showing no longer human teeth, but jagged, like an animal's, but still crystalline, deadly, beautiful. Her eyes glowed red, boring into mine. Her youthful face turned wild, wild as a cougar, just as graceful. "Welcome to hell, my child."

I struck. She easily deflected the lightning attack, whacking away the arrowhead. I stepped forward, but she dashed away, so quickly she left a trail of curious orange in the air. I stopped, alarmed. Nothing could move that fast, not even Alex Mercer, as far as I could tell.

"Do you think just because you are capable of poisoning my brother you can beat us?" she taunted, "We are the first, and the most powerful. Do not think you can go anywhere you want, challenge whom you want, and live to tell the tale," she warned, point a finger at me.

I took the chance to dive forward, while she was distracted. She did not react, much to my surprise. However, just as I was about to reach her, something erupted from the ground in an explosion of dirt and rocks. I felt gates snap shut above my head, the sun disappeared. I hit a wall of slimy flesh as whatever prison I was in shook and retreated back into the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

On second thought, I was able to finish this chapter before I started my vacation. How fortunate.

Thank you all for the great reviews! I have read them all thoroughly and considered ideas in them with care.

I have just figured out how to do horizontal lines... How silly of me. (But I am too lazy to go back and do all the previous chapters, too, because I don't have their documents uploaded anymore.)

**Timer:**

This story is expected to be completed by December 31st, 2014.


	16. Death Legion

The thing lurched, back and forth. Added to the chaos were gunfire and booms of explosions, the heavy backstage to an intense performance.

The inside was a deadly place. Sharp teeth lined the interior, grazing my skin with every move, stabbing me through with each jerk. Acid was the water here, burning away touch, burning away senses, burning away sanity.

I could feel myself being sucked back, and fought furiously against the tide, as the acid washed over me, as the teeth dragged me along. Behind somewhere was a vortex. It was hungry. I felt my foot touch something, hard, like bone, jagged, like knives. I screamed as an entire leg was ripped open. The stomach was near.

In desperation, I stabbed down into the churning mill with a blade, then gritted my teeth as it was more or less shredded. The pain was unbearable. Still the current carried me.

The entire creature shook and I was jarred from my position to be farther digested. Like stepped on hot spikes. I curled into a ball and shielded myself with a layer of shield.

The teeth hit the shield. I let it rip into it, and was forced to endure the pain as it dragged me through a grinder. However, I did not let it go, but held its position. It was a test of strength, me against whatever monster this was. It choked, then lurched again, as though to throw me out. I refused, hanging onto the teeth like a life line. The gears stopped turning, the teeth stopped cutting, the current stopped flowing.

With a yell, I began to pull on the spikes. The creature roared as a strip of it was ripped from its insides. It thrashed, making the environment inside extremely unstable. I dug two swords to its insides to keep steady, which only caused it more pain. From my back came the third appendage, in the form of a drill. It made a ear-splitting sound as the drill made its way through the walls of the stomach.

The creature's skin was at least two feet thick. While it twisted and turned about, I slashed a sword through the hole made by the drill. There was light outside, just behind another curtain of flesh. I stabbed it through, earning the cool feeling of fresh air, and another scream of the beast. I felt myself being thrown back as the creature reared, high into the air. Shouts rang through the air, helicopter motors, tank engines. I cut a hole in the beast like paper.

From its side I burst out, narrowly avoiding its tumbling body. The gigantic worm buckled as a rocket exploded on its underside, a ring of large teeth rotating and clicking. It fixed its tiny eyes on me. I snarled back. It dove forward, I leaped up.

The creature moved at the speed of a subway train, carving out a trench path in the ground by its passage, missing me. I landed on its back with body swords down, sticking firmly to its body. It roared and flipped over a tank.

I stuck a biobomb under its skin and leaped away before those nasty teeth could turn around and bite me. The creature did not react to the explosive in its body, only getting angrier and angrier the more I dodged its crushing blows. But when the bomb did explode, its ripped through the worm's body, severing it in half. Harsh tendrils shot through the air to smash apart anything in their way.

The monster still struggled, attempting to dive back into the ground. But I flew forward, both blades out. The momentum of my crash sent the worm into the ground at a wrong angle, making it hit and slide against the ground instead. Its teeth slashed open my thigh as I did so.

It screamed again, so loud that soldiers flinched. Barbs grew on its skin, scratching at anything within reach, throwing up rocks and dirt, chewing through everything that came near its mouth in its frenzy.

I backed off, repulsed. How could such a thing even exist? Its functions consist as far as to devour and to smash, and had no other organs other than a stomach to digest everything that had been eaten. The creature was revolting, and I planned to end it.

With a yell that caught the attention of everyone within vicinity, I leaped at the worm, which still thrashed, trying to dig its way back underground. Oh I was not going to let it go so easily, not after it ate me and I clawed my way from its stomach. The blade slammed down on its teeth, shattering many, dicing the mouth. It tried to shake away the pain, but I spun and cut a large slice through its body, followed by impaling its jaw and slamming it into the ground. It did not get up after that, only attempting to crawl its way forward slowly. It managed to inch as far as three feet before the military opened fire, spraying it with bloodtox and explosion. Within a second it was nothing but a burnt and decaying lump of flesh.

I straightened from where I landed, a bit farther away, dusting away the slime and the flesh. Calmly I watched the worm for any signs of life.

A bullet darted into one side of my cheek and blasted out the other, whipping my head around. I tasted the bloodtox. Immediately I turned back, hissing. More guns raised in fear than professionally. The sniper whose gun was still smoking twitched.

I took a step. More guns raised. Oh I was angry. Mad that someone dared to fire upon me, even madder at the coward of a man who couldn't get a shot off in the fight earlier.

If someone had dropped a pin at this point, the tension would probably explode and earn me a collection of bullet holes and everyone else a sword in their head.

"Enough!"

Here came Vinson, with his maniacal sword and his anti-tank pistol. Like toys the soldiers stood straight and saluted, though the strain of their muscles visible, the veins on their jaws budging. I only crossed my arms and stood back onto my heels. He accepted my defeat.

"You," he gestured wildly, to the soldiers in front of him, "heard there was another attack on FDR Drive. Go take care of that. And report to command base when you're done."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

I watched them go, so loyal, so eager, so naïve. Then there was quiet. Quiet I enjoyed.

"Care to explain?" He was staring at the dead beast.

I shrugged. "Mother is here."

He was confused. "Mother? You have a mother? I didn't realize you have–"

"No, doofus. Mother is just the title we give to the creator of all these," I waved erratically to the corpse. "And… Well… To be honest, she's kind of … an adopted mother. Her real name is Dana Mercer," I babbled.

Vinson stilled. I could tell I said something he didn't want to hear. There was sudden realization in his eyes, then resolve.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong. We had Dana Mercer secure and locked in a containment prison in Houston while battling Alex Mercer on the west coast. After she escaped, all sorts of strange infected we have never seen before," gesturing to the dead worm, "started popping up. I guess you could say we were getting our asses handed back to us."

"I see," I concluded, not bothering to mention witnessing the rise of the last titan.

"See what?" Sergeant Gunners strode at us, his rifle stinging over his shoulder. He snapped a quick but casual salute to Vinson, who glared back.

"Where are you men?" he demanded.

Gunners shrugged. "I sent them up with Bravo company. Thought I'd grab some quality time with my buddy and…" he looked me up and down. I glared at him and his mischievous smile, "and your lady here."

"Right…" Again, there was something about him… I scrutinized, non too-discreetly. He looked like he wanted to point it out to me, but was interrupted when the ground under us shook.

Something large landed a bare twenty yards away, screeching at us from a mouth of sharp teeth. I had one moment to recognize the build of a pterodactyl before it lunged, knocking Vinson aside and latching onto me with sharp claws. Gunners reacted the quickest, unloading a full clip of his rifle into the creature's face. It screeched again and backed away, bleeding bloodtox from its injuries.

Vinson rolled to his feet and shot it with a cannonball, which caused it to lurch to the side. I didn't even bother to draw weapons. Running up, I gave it a bear tackle, wrenching it to the ground. It bit at me, but I snapped its jaw shut with a punch, then snapped its neck. The creature still struggled, biting and clawing. Vinson put another few rounds into it head, finally stilling it.

I quickly separated myself from the disgusting corpse, which twitched every now and then.

"So what–?"

"Look!"

I was not even annoyed at Gunners for interrupting me, because in the sky was a behemoth as large as a battleship. The sheer size of it was difficult to comprehend, as it loomed over the city like an angel of death. It, like its ground-bound counterpart before, was swarmed in a thick layer of mist, until I realized the mist was not mist, but flocks and flocks of aerial creatures.

My jaw dropped.

"Is that… is that a hot air balloon?" Vinson asked stupidly. I didn't respond, still staring.

Gunners was already half way to a parked tank, yelling into his radio. "Get the air force launched! Quickly! What? No! You see that big, fat balloon over the Empire State Building? Yeah, kill it!"

There was no time to lose. By now everyone must have seen the creature of the infected. Everyone was on a tight schedule. Everyone wanted to kill everything quickly, so that they could go kill something else. The second titan had eclipsed the sun, drowning the city in its own shadow. Gas sacs stuck out at random places, covered in layers and layers of slime and veins. A maw hung on the bottom in its vortex of teeth and tentacles. Slowly, the creature began to inhale. Cars, trees, rocks, people. They flew like as though on a leash, flailing and tumbling, into the monster.

"I guess I'll take care of it," I whispered, my voice small in the presence of the giant. My step towards it was hesitant.

But before I could take off, a hand was on my shoulder. Vinson shook his head. "No. The air force will keep it distracted. You need to find the Mercers and take care of things here on the ground. If you can stop them, then this things will be a piece of cake."

I nearly despaired at his words. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" he demanded.

"I just can't! They're too powerful!" I cried back.

He looked at me sternly. "You can take on every single evolved in this city, but can't kill the two of them? You can punch your way through a solid yard of bullet-proof glass, but can't manage a pair of destructive children? Where is your spirit?!"

"You don't understand! Last time I faced them, I was almost shredded and eaten! And that was one at a time. Who knows what they can do together?"

"Then stop fighting your goddam battles alone," said a voice, to the side. I looked to see Carson striding towards us, consuming an unfortunate evolved as he came. Dark slashes lined his face. A ghost haunted his eyes. "Don't play hard, play smart. You have allies."

"But you can't face against them with me."

He brushed aside the comment. "No, I cannot. But listen to what I have to say: Alex Mercer said they are only here for the Order. If we can kill the Order, and its leader, then he will leave this world alone."

"You can talk to Alex Mercer?" Vinson questioned, suspicion visible in his eyes.

"Yes." That was all Carson said, not backing down.

I sighed. "What did I say about playing nice?" I held up a finger to shush whatever Vinson was about to say next. "If that truly is him, then he will keep his word. For all he is, Alex Mercer is no liar. He has no reason to."

"Then what are we waiting for."

* * *

><p>The pyramid still stood, tall and gleaming as ever. Even the infected kept their distance from it. The snakes of metal that intertwined between the glass looked down ominously, guardians of the secrets within.<p>

As I walked forward, the streets were deadly quiet. Behind every corner was a beast holding its breath, claws extended, teeth gleaming. Too many things hid in the rubbles, gone when I looked, back when I turned. They were curious. They wanted meat.

I stood in front of the pyramid, like I had what seemed like a long time ago. But now there wasn't just one protector, one ally. I had behind me dozens more Loyalists, no weaker than the man before. They would survive. They would kill. They could, and would, destroy them, the murderers, the monsters.

A big man stepped from within the fortress, followed by many, like flies buzzing about, ready to feast. The man gave me a sneer, though I didn't miss his worried glance at the army behind me. He was nervous, anxious that their stronghold, their last line of defense, was under attack. Oh, how I smelled the queen ant inside, jumping at every shadow, twitching at every movement.

"There's no other way," I shouted, across the street, voice echoing in the hollowness and stillness of the city. "Today is the day of judgment, that shapes the future of mankind in its outcome. There shall be glory in victory, death in defeat. Raise your arms and fight!"

The Loyalists yelled, like thunder. The order threw up their hands too, like the beast within the earth.

I couldn't tell who moved first, but suddenly both sides leaped into the air and stormed at each other, like titanic waves deep in the sea. The prototype rushed at me, mouthful of sharp teeth and arms like heavy clubs. Perhaps he thought I wouldn't put up much fight.

I simply sidestepped, causing him to miss his initial charge. When he turned, he found an enormous blade spinning at him. The impact sliced heavily through his chest and sent him flying backwards. He crumbled into a wall, which collapsed and fell on him. I didn't chase, instead climb a building adjacent, up and up until I was several hundred feet in the air, looking down at the battle.

From my insides I withdrew a small, plastic pistol. Aiming it into the air, I let off two shots. Like fireworks they sailed into the sky, illuminating the dark place under the shadow of the titan.

The prototype was coming back, scaling the building with his claws. I aimed the flare gun down and shot into his face, blinding him. While he was rubbing away the light, I gave him a good kick. He didn't dislodge from his place on the wall, but the chunk of wall itself fell.

Without waiting for him to rock bottom, I jumped, even higher into the air, then fell. The force of my impact knocked a ring of evolved away, friendly or not. A second prototype roared a challenge at me. His whip pierced my chest then dragged me off my feet. Then Carson was there, whacking the prototype away.

A single missile flew through the air, leaving a trail of dark smoke. Heads looked up to see its passing, and its crash through the beautiful glass walls. It exploded, in a miniature sun that temporarily illuminated the dark place. Then the explosion was gone, leaving behind a circle of molten glass, and a hole in the ground. Dark winds seemed to be blowing from its depth.

This I had not expected. I assumed the Order put everything close to ground level for an easy escape. But from the darkness that was at the bottom, I realized the glass pyramid was nothing but for show. Hitting it with a thermobarbic missile was simply a waste. A hand grasped the edge of the hole and pulled itself out. More evolved were here.

On the other hand, the military was also here. A barrage of missiles bombed back the ones still on their way to climb out. They fell back into the darkness. Marines poured out from tanks, guns ablaze. Vinson was here, dueling an evolved with his sword. I watched as he blasted the overconfident man's head open in a shot of his pistol, then decapitated him from a swipe of his blade. He didn't get up. Gunners was not far behind, coming from the other direction with his own legion of tanks, blowing his way through a collapsed building. His cannons turned the battlefield into a slaughter field. And of course, Gallegos was not one to miss this opportunity. But instead of risking her high, royal life, she was in a helicopter, directing its next bombardment.

"Don't let them near the base!" someone shouted, though muffled in the chaos.

In the sky was a storm of fire. Great waves of flyers met against the bullet barrage of the planes. Ground artillery bombed the beast with rains of shells. The titan was coming, slowly heading this way despite the damage it was taking. A thermobarbic missile blew off a tentacle, which fell to the ground and crushed an entire street. Clouds of bloodtox, sprayed by bombers, surrounded it, melting it down as it came. Still it did not slow.

"Isn't this world beautiful?" said a voice behind me. I swung back, catching the speaker at chest height. But instead of being even hurt, it only laughed. "You will have to try harder than that."

Alex Mercer brushed aside the blade as though paper, his chest closing in a mass of writhing flesh. He did not seem to mind my hostility, or the battle around. An evolved, foolish in his own might, attacked us. He came as close as ten feet before Mercer's enormous arm grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. What remained of him was absorbed into Mercer.

"Pests," he spat, "They are not grateful for the power I granted them, but wish to dominate the human race in their own plan." He swung his arm, which became more slender, sharper, thinner. The blade that grew out scratched the ground as its full arc, and the back of it extended past his elbow so that the entire thing was as tall as him. He stared at it for a second, as though he couldn't believe himself. "There is no place as tempting as the old battlefields of New York, or the smell of blood and the sight of gore in the birthplace of Blacklight."

I was so intent on Mercer I didn't notice the party he brought with him. The infected creatures, deformed monsters that had no traces of what they had been originally, rampaged through the people. There were shouts of surprise, then the sound of flesh tearing and hitting.

"Anna!" someone yelled, from the middle of the battle. I looked up, surprised, while Mercer was jerked out of his thoughts with narrowed eyes. The man who shouted had an arm reached out to me. His thin, gray beard was stained with red. His wrinkled face was desperate. For a second, I didn't recognize him.

"Tom?"

He didn't reply. Because he couldn't. A jagged blade stuck out from under his chin, its zigzag edge sawing through his neck, spraying blood like a fountain. In so long I noticed how wide his eyes were, just seconds away from death, as the blade twisted. I watched in horror as it retracted, leaving him to fall onto his knees. Then a boot planted itself on his back, and roughly shoved him into the dirt.

Above was the grinning face of Steve Gunners.

"What?"

Gunners' smile widened when he saw me. But while I stood, in shock, he leaped over a charging evolved and slammed his saw blade hard into the man's back, opening another fissure of blood.

"No!"

I ran forward, forgetting the world around me. I didn't notice the giant cleaver chopping down in my path, nor the maniac who held it. But someone did. A whipfist pierced my back and tugged me flying back. The blade dug into the dirt.

Alex Mercer was standing in front of me while I lay in the ground, his whip still in my back. Before him was Mother, in her insane laugh and wild hair. He shook his head. When she took a step forward, he did not back off, rooting his feet to the ground. Her face twisted into a snarl. But before she could do anything, a hail of bullets rammed into her side. She darted away, again leaving behind that curious trail of orange.

"I still have uses for you," was all Mercer said, before he unlatched his whip and ran off, too.


	17. Mind Warfare

If you ask me now, then that day is the most bloody day of my life. The fight expanded to cover the whole of Upper East Manhattan, and parts of Midtown, too. Of course, parts of its weren't so destructive, only around the hive the Order had dug themselves, in part due to the simply vicious methods of infected, other to the bombs the military dropped along the way. All in all, there were fresh blood and bright explosions. So much excitement, so much pain. Death found us that day.

* * *

><p>Gunners dashed through the battlefield quickly, erratically spinning out to saw people through with his blade. From the screams of his victims, the jagged edge was more painful than not.<p>

I attempted to follow, but the sheer numbers of the Order kept me at bay. I was forced to plow my way through a series meat walls. Every time I thought I had a clear shot, someone stepped into my way, as though they were protecting their prince. Growling in frustration, I bashed the head of another evolve into the ground.

Someone else also saw the threat, or perhaps out of retribution. Baker dove herself forward, catching just the boot of Gunners as he tried to dart away. He stumbled, sending them both out of sight, behind the stomach of another fat bastard. His eyes widened when I flayed open myself like a kite and squeezed him like a nailed coffin. The wall of teeth dug into him from all directions.

Far away, I could make out Baker's form as she dug her blade into Gunners' chest, who twisted away, opening a even bigger lash. She followed up with a kick that send him backwards, then another stab. I thought perhaps Tom would be avenged by someone he knew better.

Until Gunners turned the table back onto her. His jigsaw ripped open her back with a roar of ferocious bear. Her punches turned into nothing as they deflected off his scarred armor. He used his blades like choppers, cutting through the air so quickly they blurred. When the last blow fell, I was already jumping into the air.

Only to be dragged back into the ground as a whip wrapped itself along my foot. Attached to the other end was a grinning prototype, who face smashed like porcelain as I used it to break my fall. He shook his head before charging again, the whip dancing like a snake in a heat of the fight.

Too hurried to play games, I drew claws, more exaggerated than needed. He didn't even stop, letting me run him through and through, then turning and gutting himself even more. He stopped laughed, I stopped holding. As his whip caught my neck, I pushed, until the claws came out the other side. Now he was concerned, one arm a shield now, to bash me away. I melted my entire body, save for the claws still stuck in him. His shield passed through me with bare resistance. I shifted the claws up. Suddenly he was slices of dead meat, toppling over where he stood.

Gunners was gone, most likely to another part of the fight to slaughter more people. But he wasn't the biggest problem anymore.

The newest Blackwatch specialist flew in with blades like rain. Two large disks of silvery metal cut through the air so quickly their passage could be heard. The target was in midair, unable to change his trajectory. Will died as he was trisected, then kicked into the ground by the flying, metal man.

I heard a roar, angry, powerful. Anthony Carson managed to score a hit on the specialist with a concrete block, causing the man to lose his direction. He tumbled into the ground somewhere behind the battle. Carson jumped in after him, a mass of pure vengeance.

I thought about going in after him, but from what I could see, his was just another losing battle. Everywhere the Loyalists were outnumbered by the Order. The military could do little in the mingling bodies, unsure who they were firing on. The few that dared to charge the line of tanks were shot down in a blink of an eye.

I stared at the battle, trying to see its cause, its significance, because for what was this worth?

Then I was no longer staring at the battle at head height, instead my view shifted about thirty feet to the left and five feet down into the ground. I felt the impact, the jarring blow that had hit me hard and fast, the trail of dirt I left in my short, uncontrolled flight. I looked up. There was only a faint trail of orange. What had hit me?

Another punch launched me forward. I could barely roll and come to my feet in the surprise. My back ached from the impact.

Something rushed at me from behind. Automatically I swung, with no less than four tentacles, shrieking through the air towards my attacker. They all hit. I whipped around as it backed off. It was Mother, now sporting an ugly gnash on her face from my counter. She smiled despite.

"You are stronger than I expected," she purred, stalking me in our own bubble, separate from the outside, "But are you strong enough?"

I prepared for the attack, though that didn't stop the lightning blade from striking into my ribs. The second one I deflected. She growled, then kicked me. I felt the blade detach from my sides, which was good, but also myself soar, which was bad, considering that she was coming after me. In midair I spread wings and lifted upwards. Unfortunately her claws still ripped my back open and slammed me back down.

"Good try."

I felt a tongue of fire lick across my face, shredding skin as it went. I bit it when it reached my mouth, and from my teeth injected the deadly neurotoxin. Immediately there was a growl, and the tongue pulled back. This allowed me to whip my head to the side, narrowly avoiding the swing of a sharp blade.

"You will suffer!"

She drew back her fist. I had time to raise both my hands as support, but still her punch carried through my shield to hurl me back. She dashed forward, like light itself, again leaving the trace in the air, and grabbed me with claws. They hurt, enough to spur me on to escape her grip. But my stabs and slashes did nothing, not while she absorbed them like a sponge.

"Meet your end," she said, raising her other claw.

"Dana!" someone screamed. She looked up, surprised. Perhaps the name itself was her key. While she was distracted, I kicked her in the face, forcing her to let go. She glared daggers at me, not noticing another figure, in dark clothing, ran forward with the same astonishing speed. Alex Mercer left a trace of not orange, but black, that hung gloomily in the air. "Come back to me!"

His voice was almost desperate, almost human. I was stunned, her too. For a second, the orange eyes of Mother softened and became almost blue. Her combat stance straightened. She opened her mouth, like she wanted to say something. But then something else took over. Her eyes once again turned orange. Veins began to glow along her arm, the claws enlarging.

Mercer kept coming. Using his enormous blade as a battering ram, he half-tackled her away, not slowing one bit. I saw the heavy impact more than heard it, the ring of disturbed air that marked their collision. His charge carried them far, out of the ring of battle, disappearing around a block. I might have ran to see, but there were more pressing matters.

* * *

><p>I chased the specialist and Carson from Central Park to 1st Avenue and back again. The specialist had nearly unlimited mobility as he darted through the air, cutting with blades as he went. Carson was not far behind, launching himself with a ferocious speed, from building to building, occasionally knocking people out of the way with superhuman strength.<p>

At every corner, I was closer, but they seemed to disappear as they rounded the next, always turning again, always rising into the air or falling to the ground. At one point I thought I almost caught the specialist with my whip, but then an unfortunate brawler smashed into me with its teeth. It was now a splatter of blood on the cracked pavement below.

On my third round trip about the Central Park Zoo, I noted a second tail, on the ground, pursuing the pair. I thought perhaps to shout a greeting to Durant, but he already dove head first into an evolved, who threw him against the ground. I spared no time for him, not even as he lost the fight; there were still plentiful of his brethren nearby.

The military snipers shot at the specialist, but he was too quick, just a tiny dark that flashed past. I briefly took the chance to take in the formation of the army and their row of tanks and artillery. Each man was grim, each hand steady, each weapon loaded. But I could only hope they were truly ready. The armies of the infected were never stronger.

Something zoomed past my face, in a flight of darkness. Gunners did not notice me as he dove, for the military battalion lined up. He must have had a death wish, since that right there was about two hundred people loaded up to fight a war but were too afraid of causing collateral damage and injuring allies to fire. And he was going for the middle of it like a fly to the Venus flytrap.

Yeah, he was mad. He was going to be swatted down by enough firepower to decimate this entire street. There was no point to try to save the ten men he might kill, until I saw the man in the center, who stood tall and brave against the incoming prototype. He flipped on his mask and drew his weapons, a pistol and a sword.

"Shit," I cursed, and abruptly changed my course midair by using my whip and a building as a wheel. Gunners let out a shout of war. I watched in horror as at least a dozen evolved responded, finishing up what remained of their last opponent, and joined him in his charge. One I took down almost immediately, not looking up as my blade bisected him down the middle.

Vinson shot at Gunners, who weaved in the air, avoiding a hail of gunfire and some flak cannons. Two blades were extended, a scream of fury and a dive of freedom. Vinson was smart to roll aside, or else the charge that left the pavement cracked could have easily left his head cracked. Bullets ripped into Gunners, who lashed out in a circle, cutting four men down like weeds. Vinson slashed the air in a challenge.

"Lieutenant Gunners, you are found guilty of treason and murder. Your sentence is death."

Gunners laughed, as though that was the best joke he'd heard in a lifetime. "Good call, captain. But I think you will need a lot more than authority and words to beat me."

He lunged forward. Vinson raised his sword and deflected the blade, but it carried farther than he anticipated, cutting his bicep.

"You're getting sloppy, old man!"

He sprung again, but I was there, falling from the sky, with perfect timing. Vinson raised his sword again, to deflect the attack that never came, eyes closed. My lance pinned Gunners to the ground, still scratching and clawing. He tried to extend his arm to slice Vinson in half, but I stomped on his hand and mortared it like a bug. He growled and buckled, but all he succeeded in doing was to impale himself even more.

He roared, while still attempt to shake me off of him. "You are blind, Snow! We will take this world from Mercer and give it to the people! He won't be able to make it his playground!"

"Yet you follow blindly in Peterson's name, who is too cowardly to come and fight his own battles. What could he offer this world? Isn't he the reason Mercer is all stirred up again after his peaceful moment?"

A shot rang through the air. Gunners didn't reply; he was dead. Vinson holstered his pistol with a grim darkness on his face. I didn't let go of the dead body. "That's enough. You can't interrogate a dead man." He turned to walk away.

"Why did you kill him?"

He looked back. "Because someone had to kill your demon for you. Or else you will just turn into the same monster." I stared at his back while he shouted orders to other people. "I don't care! Just shoot down that Blackwatch man!"

That snapped me back. Though Gunner's suicidal charge failed, Carson was still fighting with the specialist. I looked to where the artilleries were pointing, in the sky. High above the building was the specialist, his jetpack barely able to keep him aloft with the hanging man latching on below him, a wild snarl on his face. I watched a spiked boot kick down, once, twice, but he didn't let go.

Instead, Carson reached up with his claws and grabbed the man's chest in a massive fist. The specialist didn't seem too concern, instead spreading his arms. From his forearms erupted a legion of flying blades, circling the pair of them in their own ball of sharp metal. They began to cut into Carson, each slash deeper, each slice more fatal.

But he was not going down so easily. Carson began to squeeze and harden an armor. The flying blades became stuck in the reinforced skin. He raked the metal suit with claws, only to watch it bounce off with sparks. Then he punched the other man, rocking both of them back. And another punch, this time they dipped a little. Another, they swerved like haywire fireworks.

But it was not the specialist who fell. Despite all his rage, Carson was dropping. I could practically see the bloodtox cloud the specialist injected into him, and the poison that seeped from his open wounds. I was racing forward, to catch him, or at least as a last honor. Then explosions rocked the sky. The cannons filled the air of the victor with shells. He would survive, no doubt, because that suit made him as resilient as a prototype, but that didn't even matter anymore. I shielded my eyes from the chain of light that lit up the sky. The Loyalists had fallen.

* * *

><p>"You know what I always thought of that day?"<p>

"What?"

"It shouldn't have taken so many lives to fight out the fight between the two of them. That was just stupid."

"Well, guess what? This is war. Shit happens in war, and we're just gonna have to accept it. They might be fools to follow, but they chose to be fools to the end."

* * *

><p>"Second warhead coming in!"<p>

The missile sailed fast and true, landing a 3-pointer into the Order's maw, all net. A second later, the bottom of the pit erupted in its own personal volcano. Even from high above, I felt the heat and the power unleashed by the thermobarbic explosion. So did the juggernaut that had planted itself in front of me. When it shifted its deformed head to look, I dove in and slice off an arm.

"Roar!" it blew into my face.

In response, I gave it a good kick in its oversized belly. It tumbled off the side of the building, comically swinging one arm, attempting to balance its disproportionate size. Unfortunately for it, the building, already burnt and half crumbled, could not support its weight on a ledge. The entire section of the wall collapse down.

I carefully peered over the edge. There was a faint splatter of blood under a ton of stone. "So much for that."

Unfortunately, "that" was only a small part of the problem. Where the Order had dug their own grave now overflowed with evolved and prototype, scrambling out of their toasted home to be bombarded upon by helicopters. Gallegos probably decided there wasn't enough allies left in the horde to worry about casualties, so gave order to fire. Artillery shells flew high into the sky, almost reaching the fiery behemoth in the heavens, then fell, in rains of explosions. The streets were now mostly craters and chunks.

Amongst those exited was Peterson. He looked ever so holy in his still clean robes, though his face was no longer the serene beauty, but murderous rage. He looked at the carnage, then the tanks that still blew the streets to bits. Two prototypes beside him had to physically restrain him so he didn't suicide too at the guns. Looked like someone finally had enough sense to obtain bodyguards, not that it would do him good.

I leaped to the next building, and the next, then the next, until I was almost sitting on top of him, just a block away. From here, I saw that the Central Park suffered a mini apocalypse of its own. Two large tendrils, with split mouth lined with teeth, came from the ground. They towered over the infected and the evolved alike, biting at anything within range, and occasionally tossing chunks of rocks to compensate for their lack of mobility. A bomber jet dove in and swept the entire park in flames, but one of the hydras managed to catch it with a quick tongue. The plane spiraled out of control.

I considered diving down, and hopefully, with the element of surprise, I might be able to smash both prototypes on my landing and jar him enough to take him out. But on the other hand, it seemed rather unlikely.

Another round of bombs fell. I was lucky the building I perched on didn't collapse.

As if luck heard me, there came the prize. The specialist flew in like a dark wind, narrowly dodging a hydra's tongue, and launched a disk down at Peterson. He dove out of the way. The prototypes on either side tensed.

_How nice. While they get distracted, I kill Peterson._

Too bad the real world wasn't perfect. A brawler leaped up at me, forcing me to kick it away or have my foot gnawed off. It was rather persistent, too, coming back for seconds, then a third. After it clawed my leg, I swept downward with a whip, which hit the brawler's head with bone-shattering force. It fell after that, limp, dead. Oh well.

The specialist weaved in between the two prototypes, so fast they could not catch him. One of his arms extended to be a long blade while the other controlled a storm of shrapnel that encased them. One of the prototypes doubled over when he threw some sort of dart; bloodtox flowed like river from the point of contact. The other spun forward with a punch that launched him into the air. Perhaps it was luck again, or just pure coincidence, but tanks fired another barrage of shells just then. The specialist looked up to see the incoming missiles, but could not burst away. Something exploded midair, and the smoking form of the specialist flew like a bullet into another building. The entire structure collapsed on top of him.

I grimaced. I took another look down. It was quite far of a distance to fall.

But of course, there was no time to think too much. Below, Peterson was jogging away, most likely to leave this devastated city behind. After all, it didn't look the part of a vacation resort, especially with a city of armed forces who would fire on sight and a balloon of death hanging overhead. I jumped down. Time to finish the game.

* * *

><p>"Please, I need you to promise me this: don't turn me. Please, I beg you. I can't live with myself if you do. I'm sorry."<p>

* * *

><p>Luck loved me; Karma did not.<p>

The ground came up, rushing at me with the speed of a freight train. There was a strange creature below. It looked like a juggernaut, even taller, but it was painfully thin, with sticks for body and limbs. However, it had too many limbs. A forest of arms reached to grab an evolved, who danced away, horror on his face. The creature tried again, but the evolved was retreat, unwilling to touch something so absurd or horrid. I was in part hesitant myself, but I promised myself I would probably crush its stick of a body on my way down and not think about this strange creation.

Luck positioned that I would land in such a way that the creature did not see me, but Karma decided I would not land at all. A blur tackled me from the side, painfully sending me flying in its momentum. We snapped a light pole, broken by my back, and an evolved, again broken by my back, then carved a trench in the ground, needless to say what made it. The obsidian form that held me stabbed down with a blade for arm. I barely raised my own arm in time to deflect it into the ground beside me, though scratching my hand in the process.

I had never realized how strong brutes were until now. When I scrambled to my feet, it hit me with enough force to make me fall again, disoriented from the blow. Its blades were razor sharp, cutting through asphalt with bare resistance. From one second I was blocking a cut, to the next when I was flat on my back, staring into the expressionless and featureless mask that was its face, I thought I saw death. It cut at me with its scythe. I tried to retreat, but there was a wall of stone. I couldn't go up or down, something was holding me. I raised an arm to shield my head.

But the creature didn't attack. It only stood, motionless, a statue of shadows. I dared to peek up. Then, without warning, it fell, face forward, limp. I managed to catch the blade so it didn't impale me, but the thousand-pound monster that collapsed on me wasn't any better. I gave it a good shoved and watched in satisfaction as the lifeless husk tumbled away.

Then I rose to find my savior. Strangely, there was none.

All around me, monsters fell, dead. The many handed abomination, a hundred yards away, that had only terrorized the world with its existence a minute before, lay on the ground, resembling a strange caterpillar. Brawlers were motionless on the ground, aside the juggernauts and their eternal sleep. I alone stood in the graveyard, so quiet, so still. It was wrong, that apocalypse was so quick, so silent. There was no great fire or powerful explosion, only a dreamless sleep. In the sky, the titan was no longer fighting. It hung, equally dead, slowly floating away. Bird fell in downpour of flesh.

That was it. For some reason, the infected were dead. The unstoppable army had killed itself.

Then where was Alex Mercer?

* * *

><p>"Him? No, he was good. We were all played, like pieces on a board by him. But he wasn't really evil, or even bad, for that matter. He was doing what he saw as a necessity. No matter who was sacrificed along the way, but he needed her back, so he took her back."<p>

* * *

><p>Peterson was in the middle of the street, looking equally bewildered. He stared at the dead, nervously glancing at the shadows, as though afraid he expected something to jump from their depths. His face was haunted with darkness, his eyes twitchy, his movements jerky.<p>

The one remaining bodyguard pushed the corpse of a juggernaut aside and dusted his hands. He looked to Peterson for order, but found that the man had none. He took an unsure step toward his patron.

"Sir…?"

The blade came from above. He never saw its passage through the air, nor felt its pain. The specialist had taken a toll on him, so just in a flash, the bodyguard was gone, absorbed into the blooded demon that stood in his place.

Peterson whipped around. His eyes widened for a second, then narrowed. "You can never give up, can you, Snow?" I gave no response. "Well, then, if you must finish this fight," he point an arm at me. It lengthened into a blade, sleek and death, "then come and finish it!"

With a roar, he lunged at me.

I had expected the attack, though not the ferocity of it, and so was not able to dodge it, letting it scratch my ribs instead. He spun, cutting horizontally. I raised my own blade, breaking the swing. The force of the block cut sparks into the air, showering us in its golden light. The ground at my foot crumbled into loose stone as I tried to stand upright. He did not stop there, continuing to put his strength behind the blow, pushing me back step by step. I fought to stay with every inch.

He roared into my face.

Within his eyes were the blackness that was the end of life. It was tainted with all the madness of the mind, the streaks of anger, the strokes of insanity, the layers of hunger. The pinpoints within the darkness were far, so far away. They sucked in all light, all life, all happiness, all sanity.

I shifted my body to the left and let him push himself forward to the right. He rolled as he stumbled and landed on his feet, sweeping back with the board of his blade. I vaulted over him, landing behind as he turned and pierced his back with my hand, through and through, like a pike. He tried to shake me off, but I peeled away the hand like a flower, trapping him on my arm. He kicked back, missed, and loosened his mass, letting himself melt away like a sludge then reforming ten feet away.

But he didn't expect the biobomb planted in his chest. He snarled at me, slashing the air. From here he was not the regal man, but an animal. His robes were no longer white, stained with grim and blood, tattered and scraped. His hair was no longer perfect and groomed, wild and unruly. His mouth opened to reveal a deep maw and a tongue of sharp, jagged teeth.

Then the bomb exploded.

It blasted out of his chest like a grenade, blowing a hole from his front to his back. I followed in with a kick, but even in his destroyed form, he had lightning reaction. A broken hand grabbed my foot and smashed me to the ground. He stomped down, crushing a rib. I grunted in pain and slashed up, with a blade of scales. He expected an blade, though not one that bent to slice his throat. So he seemed to melt away, clutching at his neck. I slowly stood up, watching him carefully.

His haunted eyes found mine again. The emotions were gone, leaving behind just the darkness and its stars. "What are you waiting for?! We both know only one of us is leaving this city alive! So come and finish it!"

Again, he launched himself at me, clearing expecting me to deflected the strike. Instead, I kicked up, throwing up gravel and stone into his face. While he was blinded, I evaded his clumsy strike and stabbed him in the chest. He howled in pain and tried to spin away. Then I stabbed his hip, tripping him to the ground.

His body erupted into snakes. They bit at me, chewing through flesh like acid. I took the pain and grabbed a handful of offending snakes. They struggled like worms in my hand. Then I severed them. He howled again. The sound was a crazed scream, poisoning and bitter.

He kicked up, sending me flying back. It hurt to land on concrete, even more to roll away to avoid being impaled on the sidewalk. His other arm had grown a second, small blade, cutting at me with no less speed than the larger. A gash opened my thigh, a slit was on my stomach, a nick on my face. I fought back, a whip and a sword. A ring of holes opened on his bicep, a slash on the jaw.

Then I began to tip my weapons with poison.

The second graze on his chest forced him to take a step back. The whip danced across his midsection, opening more wounds, applying more toxin. When he tried to counter, his movement was sluggish and slow. I kicked at his shin, cracking and breaking it. He fell, but a hand grabbed his throat and lifted him into the air. He desperately try to stab me again, to break my grip. I gave him a rough shake, stealing his concentration. The blade was tracing lines in his skin now, with each cut deeper, and more noxious.

Strangely, even as his limbs began to lose feeling from the enormous amount of neurotoxin in his body, there was no remorse on his face, nor fear in his eyes. Instead, he stared at me with a mixture of respect and resignation.

"So it ends." His voice was not by any means loud anymore, just a quiet whisper that I struggled to decipher. "Well done, Anna Snow. You have proved yourself to be the better, the fitter." I cocked my head, not understanding where he was going. "I have already accepted my defeat, from the moment that Alex Mercer rose again. Yes, in that moment, I knew this is a battle I would not win. After all, he made us, each and every one of us." He closed his eyes, reciting, "'Loyalty to the Maker, for his gift. Rebellion is sin. Rebellion is death.'" He laughed. "How often do you hear those words? 'Rebellion is death.' We were already dead from the moment we chose our paths against him. But that is not what I'm trying to tell you." He looked at me in the eye, but his were not black, just human, blue, human, tired, "I have already accepted my defeat, but will you accept yours? Mercer has played us all, from the very beginning. He didn't care whether I live or die, or even you live or die. He has plans within plans. Everything I did, or you did, are because he wanted it so." I stared, not quite comprehending. "That's all I will say to you. Goodbye, slayer, but I will not be caged like an animal inside your conscious."

I had a split second to drop him and scramble away, then he exploded, from the center of his body, exactly where I planted my biobomb. Tendrils launched in every direction, shattering stone, breaking concrete. My shield was barely able to deflect the attack, my own attack. When I looked again, Peterson was dead, the hole in his chest as though someone had carved it with a crude knife. Finally I understood. He knew the biobomb was there, but he suppressed it. Instead, he had blown himself up, with me, no less. Oh, he knew he had lost, and graciously accepted death. I only wish I can, too, love death like a family.

Was this it? That. That dead man, staring at nothing with his defeated eyes, yet somehow won? Was this the end of it all? Mercer's army was dead, the majority of the Order, along with its head, dead. Mercer himself had presumably ran away and surrendered when he killed his own titan. There was nothing left. So why did I get the feeling that something was not quite right?

The shot rang out from nowhere. So engrossed in the dead man before me, I had not noticed that they arrived. A helicopter dropped a single person down. Major Gallegos strode casually forward, her gun smoking, while I fell, a bloodtox bullet stuck somewhere in my body. She had changed somewhere along the way, now wearing a full-body metal suit.

"Poor man, Ronald. I would have never guessed he would have died in such a terrible way. By your hand, no less," she said, pointedly, at me. I could not respond, growling at her under my breath. "He won't trouble us anymore. Now to business: you." Her gun pointed back at me. I stilled.

"What do you want?" I managed.

"Oh, you have no idea of your value to us." I stared, confused. "Your special genetics allowed you to become one of the strongest infected we have ever seen, short of Mercer himself. So of course, we will a sample of you." She smiled, the sinister shadow on her face. "So we can return to the glorious old days, when they," she snarled, pointing into the sky, where helicopters buzzed back and forth like bees, "couldn't interfere with our plans."

"What?"

She smiled again, like a mother to a naïve child. "You still haven't figured it out yet, huh? Tell me then," she grabbed her chest piece, and with a grunt, tore it from its place. Beneath was more armor, and a symbol, a winged star, shone like the sun in the cloudy sky. "Recognize this symbol?"

"Blackwatch…" I whispered, sudden realization coursing through me, along with the horror and disbelief.

"Yes," she smiled, widely, "us. We were once the greatest military power in this nation! And the best to contain infected like you." She didn't like me. "But the powers have shifted. The fool," she seemed to be remembering, "he took us from our place. Oh, I will certainly enjoy the look on his face once he realizes the true power we controlled, and still control."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but felt the need to say something anyways. "Fate has decided, then. Guess you just have to deal with it like everybody else."

She sneered. "I don't think so. See, with your DNA, we can restart Project Orion, and force these incompetent bastards from our place. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall need a sample of your blood."

I smiled. "Then come and get it."

I'd thought she was no more than another overzealous person, hoping to get a piece of me. Unfortunately, I thought wrong. She was just as good, if not better, than the specialists I faced. When I dove forward, she burst into the air and launched a streak of rockets at me. I rolled to dodge the explosions, then jumped back to avoid the sword she swung.

"You are nothing! Did you think just because you can kill a soldier or two of mine that you can defeat me?!"

"Oh, shut up already! At least if I die I won't have to listen to you anymore."

She snarled and charged again. I met her, blade for blade. Unfortunately, her ability to fly at will made her a lot more agile than me, so I was forced on the defense. She grew more and more confident with every swing. When she opened her mouth to taunt me again, I dashed in and kicked her right in her ass of a Blackwatch logo.

"That'll serve you some good."

She got up from where she landed, fifty feet away, anger on her face. "I won't be taking insults from a child such as you." I dodged the first spear, but the second managed to pierce my arm. From where it contacted, electricity burst out, numbing my left side. I had time to snap the rod in half to duck under a shock grenade that flew my way. It exploded in a flash of blue somewhere behind. Then she was in my face again, her bloodtox-edge blade slashing through my arm twice. I hissed as it burned. In turn, my blade hit her armor, and though it was almost invulnerable, it was not immobile. She was knocked into the air.

I followed.

In the brief second of separation, I saw that the army that had taken an interest in the fight. Soldiers had their guns raised, though whether the hesitancy was from me being their ally or their turned commander was a mystery; no one dared to take the first shot.

Gallegos met me with a flamethrower. The fire was hot, but not hot enough that I would run from. I grabbed her arm where the flames erupted and squeezed. The machine sparked and died. Feeling a bit better, I looked up and saw a spiked fist.

I raced back into ground, shocked at her superhuman strength. Her punch was strong enough to dent a tank, no less. I had definitely underestimated that suit. I rolled away from where her next punch shattered the ground, but did not find my feet. Instead, her boot found my butt and the next thing I knew, I was sailing into the air again. I twisted instinctively, and felt the blade that would have bisected me instead open up another cut along my waist.

I landed awkwardly, flat on my back, a blade on my chest and a boot on my stomach.

"So much for you," she said, in distain, "I thought Mercer's favorite pet would have a little more fight."

"Back at you, coward. You waited until I had worn myself out against your specialist, then the infected army, then Peterson."

She glared. "Talking won't save you this time. I will not be played like a fool, like Mercer had had you and dear old Ronald over there." She raised her sword. "This won't be the last sacrifice I make." I braced myself to kick her off of me.

Then her face exploded.

One moment, she was staring daggers, the next, within her helmet there was nothing but a stain of red. Blood exploded like a fountain, drenching me. Her sword fell, which I deflected off a shield to avoid being impaled by a dead person's blade (how embarrassing). Her body convulsed, then toppled back and lay still, as dead as all the other infected around.

Vinson was only a bit farther away, calmly holstering his pistol. The soldiers around him were still as ever, as though all feared to look at the executer of their major. "Casualty of war, boys. I won't have any of those Blackwatch scum where I serve."

* * *

><p>"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then."<p>

He nodded faintly, as though he couldn't believe it himself either. He had one foot in the helicopter, the other still firmly on the ground. The pilot was talking on the radio, about some sort of scheduling errors. He shouted impatiently to the other end, calling them a "bunch of useless fucks."

"Yes." He swallowed, as though unable to utter the words that would come next. "So where will you go now?"

The question took me by surprise. "Me? I never really thought about it. I guess my plan was to die with Peterson. And I almost did." A lump caught in my throat. "Thank you."

He didn't reply for the longest time. "You know, when us soldiers fight together, some sort of bond forms between us." In his eyes was a wistfulness, or maybe I was mistaking the gratitude or possible admiration. "Welcome to the family."

Inside, the pilot had stopped his argument to poke his head back. "Captain, we need to be going now!"

Vinson nodded. "As soon as I take care of one more thing." The pilot didn't look at me as he returned to his position, flipping switches and doing unnecessary engine checks. Sudden he straightened, and snapped a salute. "It's been an honor serving with you, Ms. Snow. I hope you know I am glad that I met you."

I smiled at his formality and followed his gesture, though of course not as refined. "Back at you, Captain."

The helicopter took off, and was soon as black dot against the sky. I waved, just a small gesture, and wasn't too sure if anyone saw. But it didn't matter. It was all over. There was no more war. There was no more deaths. There was no more tragedies.

In the sky, the stars fell, like a great rain of red. Around me, the graveyard of the Order waited, so kindly in its patience, for the end. Peterson still stared at nothing, but I was not missing the faint smile on his dead lips. Gallegos was motionless, the sword stuck in the dirt like a monument. The destroyed buildings were weeping out their last farewells.

I smiled. There was only peace on that battlefield of the dead, where everything stood so still, everything so natural, everything so quiet. I spread my arms and welcomed the bombs that fell from the skies, to erase the Order from man's history.


	18. Epilogue

_Subject Details:_

_Name: Annalisa E. Snow_

_Gender: F_

_Height: 5'6"_

_Status: Unknown_

_Living Relatives: None_

_Affiliations: Unknown_

_Threat Level: Low_

_General Description: Subject appears to be at twenty years of age and is usually seen in informal attire. If aggravated, subject is capable of advanced bioweapon attacks. Ability details unknown. _

_Last Seen: New York, NY_

As life had a beginning, life has an end.

But sometimes I wished it doesn't. Perhaps it was selfish, but when one life ends, another sorrows. This is why I hate this cycle, that all I know will eventually pass on, to wherever dead people go, and leave the rest of us unfortunate souls to guard the world for them.

Yeah, I'm definitely selfish.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but the children has asked for some alone time."

"Of course," I dipped my head politely at the nurse, who strode away, ever so apathetically. A life of dead or dying people will do that to you.

I stood from where I sat, on the edge of the deathbed. Within was a hero, is a hero. When I look upon him, not just pride, but also love, humanly love, and care and affection, swell like balloons. Is this how normal people feel?

My life has been as normal as I could possibly make it since the war. At the beginning, the question, "'What will you do now?'" rung through my head. So I decided that once and for all I cannot let him go.

A year after the destruction, I was back in New York. I found him, a retired Leo Vinson, sitting like a stupid head, sipping on a cup of coffee hot enough to scorch his lips. Of course, he didn't recognize me. It wasn't until a long time he finally did, that I was back to haunt him. Somehow I managed to convince him not to arrest me on sight. What a scene it would have made at the wedding.

"Ma'am, the children are anxious to see their father."

"I'll be right out."

Oh yes, the children. I was so proud of them. They were human, human just like a life I had granted them, human made from my _own_ DNA, not the infected monster Mercer created, or the thousands I had consumed, but mine.

They would not recognize me now, for they think their mother dead, dead over fifteen years ago. Oh, he knew different, the man here. He knew I was always watching, a faint shadow over their roof, a stranger tailing them through the city. He never once openly acknowledged me, but all the same left little gifts, like a box of chocolate on Valentine's day, left on his front door, or a little candle, burning on his window on New Year's Eve. But the children would not. They think I am a distant cousin, coming to visit an old friend.

His empty eyes seem to latch onto my back as I exit the room.

* * *

><p>I sat up in bed.<p>

There was something here. It made the barest of noises, a faint scratch here and there, a clink in the darkness. Without making a sound, I changed myself into jeans and a t-shirt. After all, facing any intruder in nightclothes didn't seem right.

There was no light outside, save for the bright moon that shone like death itself, always watching. I found nothing as I scanned the interior of the living room. The sofas were unoccupied, the desks unmoved, the carpet smooth. I opened the porch door and stepped outside, wondering if perhaps a bird had hit the windows. None had. I was left wondering. Perhaps I was hallucinating?

"Annalisa Snow."

I still recognized the voice, even after so many years. Yet there was no malice, only a weariness that weighed down time itself. I turned around.

Alex Mercer sat in my favorite couch, a glass in his hand, a sort of red liquid flowing. He took a sip from it, then grimaced, as though he was drinking liquid fire.

"Forgive me if I hadn't expected this visit." I kept my voice neutral, stepping inside and closing the door behind me, shutting the night air out. After all, Alex Mercer didn't visit just anybody, especially in their own homes.

He waved it off. "No worries. I just dropped by for a quick call." He didn't say anything after that.

I frowned. "Well…?"

"Well, I'm here to" _*cough_ "um… apologize," he said reluctantly.

"Apologize? For what?"

Now he just sighed, as though he had waited for the question, but could not bring himself to answer. "The war. All of it. Every single death, every bit of the destruction, every minute of the fighting." His eyes glazed over, remembering something unpleasant. "I suspect Peterson told you this before he died, but yes, you, all of you, were influenced, by me, to do exactly your part in the war."

"What?"

He growled in frustration. "Why is that so hard to believe?! Who do you think sent Ethan Purcell, curse that boy, your way? Who do you think let the Order find you in your prison? I devised every single detail of the war, the ultimate plan!"

_To do what?_

"Anna? Is there someone here?" said a groggy voice, from far away. I didn't answer, lost in my head. Mercer looked horrified for a second, then slumped back into his seat, head bowed.

"Alex, it's time to leave."

A woman stepped from the shadows. At my first glance, I almost had a heart attack. Mother looked so normal, so fit in, with her blue eyes. But her voice was soft, not evil, so I managed to stay in my seat and not throw a tantrum. She came to stand beside Alex Mercer and put a hand, almost affectionately, on his shoulder. When she looked up, into my face, I tensed.

"Hello," she said, instead of leaping forward with claws, "I don't think we've met. My name is Dana Mercer." She held out a hand.

I shook it, mouth numb.

Finally, Alex Mercer looked up with a tight smile on his face, though in his eyes danced the joys of a million lifetimes. "To free her from Mother."

* * *

><p>The children had left an hour earlier, always so busy, always finding an excuse to be somewhere else. I felt sad for them, that they will never what it is like to lose a friend of the soul. But alas, I am also willing to let them live their oblivious lives. Ignorance is bliss, as people say.<p>

When I sit beside him, I am forced to reconsider the promise I had given him, since before the children.

"Promise me you won't."

"I– I promise."

"Thank you."

He said he couldn't bear it, that hunger, but I cannot bear this, the death. So I did the only thing I could to defy it, the grim reaper. After all, he was already dead, and the dead cannot keep promises.

This is the most haunting thing I have done in a long time, but not just from love, but necessity. The world is too greedy on its own, too selfish, so that's why we need every hero we can get. And I'd be a fool to throw him away so quickly.

His dead fingers stirred. I smiled.

"Welcome to the living, Captain Vinson."

**A/N**

Hello, all.

This concludes the end of the story. It feels like it's been so long since I've started! Thank you all for bearing with me, as this is my first fanfic. If you have any questions for suggestions for future stories, please PM me!

Happy Holidays and an early New Years to you all! Don't forget to go outside once in a while and enjoy the holiday spirits! :D

BTW just out of curiosity, did anyone understand the title after reading the entire story?


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